Into The Fray
by Thunderslate
Summary: [New Cover Image] Into The Fray covers the next leg of the 400 Days Group's journey after they escape Carver's Camp. What terrors await them as they desperately try to find refuge?
1. EPISODE ONE - INTO THE FRAY

**Day 854**

"You have the project, we have the know-how; Howe's."

A pre-recorded female voiceover echoed through the empty hall of a repurposed hardware store. Rapid footsteps could be heard as several guards sprinted aimlessly in search of the noise. While the welcoming voice of the announcer would not have been questioned over two years ago, it was a death sentence now.

Sound drew the attention of the undead.

Footsteps continued to echo around the room, then stopped. Muffled conversations were heard, and then someone spoke up. "Let's… no! I-I'll go up there an' shut that thing off!"

One of the guards left the group, the owner of the voice running up the steps to what had presumably been the manager's office when this had been a simple DIY store. As he did so, the leader of the settlement spoke to another of his men. "Tyler!" Carver commanded, "I assume this is the doing of those in the pen; I'll stop them escaping. You get Troy, send him to the stockroom, and then go to the roof and dispose of what's outside."

Tyler nodded and turned to sprint away, but was briefly cut off by his leader. "You do what I told you; don't run. Now fucking _go_."

The guard nodded once more, and ran down the nearest aisle, trying to remember where Troy kept himself buried whenever he wasn't on duty. The clamour had woken most of the guards up, but Troy had a thicker head than most and was more of a deep sleeper. Tyler could instantly recall the many times Carver had kicked the shit out of the man for having lie-ins.

As he passed the 'pen,' the ex-garden centre which Carver referred to as a 'refuge for strong-willed or otherwise unruly community members', Tyler noticed the gate had been pushed all the way up. Carver was right; the people who had been inside were there no longer. Tyler didn't have time to worry, though, because that wasn't what he had been told to do. He needed to get Troy.

He picked up the pace, but heard a shot coming from Carver's office. Hank had gone up there minutes ago; he must have dealt with whoever had turned the voiceover on and would be coming back down any minute now. Everything would be fine.

Then another shot rang through the air. Instantly Tyler knew things had not gone to plan. Either Hank was just shooting the intruder in the head to stop them coming back, or the intruder was fighting back and had shot _him_.

Again, Tyler tried to keep his head down and get to Troy. In the chaos, he had completely forgotten where Troy 'lived' and had been aimlessly running around aisles, but now he remembered. Troy slept in a small room behind the help desk. Tyler could never work out what those rooms were for before the world went to shit, and he'd never been in Troy's place before, so he still didn't. Though he'd have to face what was known as Troy's "wake-up-wrath," at least he'd finally work out what the point of that damn room was.

Once he reached the door, he couldn't help but notice a faded rectangle on the door, presumably where a sign had once sat, with the word "Troy" scrawled on it in some sort of marker pen. Tyler gathered his courage, and then thumped the door three times before standing back, only to have no response.

Tyler thumped the door again, harder this time, but again, no response. The voiceover still echoed in the hall. Hank was probably dead. People had escaped the pen. What the fuck was going on?

Tyler grimaced and stepped back, then attempted to shoulder-barge the door. All that he succeeded in doing was gain a dull ache in his upper arm. The pain was minor, and would go away in a minute, but the desperation of the situation finally got to him.

"For fuck's sake Troy, get your fucking ass out here!" He yelled.

It took a few seconds, but the door finally swung open. Troy staggered out with a stare of complete disdain covering his face. "What the fuck do you want, asshole?" He asked, running a hand through his mess of hair. "What the fuck is that noise? Why in the goddamn fuck are you waking me up?"

Tyler stared back. "I don't fuckin' know, all I know is Bill wants you to help him."

"Bill wants me to help him?" Troy laughed, scratching his right cheek. "Bill fuckin' wants _my_ help? I helped Bill enough today. Fuckin' hit that little bitch with the hat while he beat the shit out of the beard guy. Now that was a fuckin' sight." His face was twisted into a grin, but Tyler could see in his eyes that he hadn't enjoyed watching a man being beaten half to death. Troy put up a tough front, but he wasn't exactly brave. People often confused bravery with his stupidity. "Anyway, what the fuck did he want?"

Tyler's shoulders sagged. "All of 'em escaped the pen. Bill wants you in the stockroom."

"For real? No fuckin' way," Troy's eyes widened in disbelief as he continued. "Bet it was Jane. Fuckin' bitch. Fuckin' crazy bitch. Or that kid with the hat, she's been doin' shit and actin' up the whole fuckin' time she's been here. I swear, when I get to 'em, they're all fuckin' dead. Jane, Hat Kid, Luke, Doc, all those fuckers. Y'know what? Fuck Bill. I'm gonna deal with them myself. Anyone checkin' on the homestead?"

"Not that I know of; I can't, I have to get to the roof."

"Well, who fuckin' cares about them anyway?"

With that, Troy lifted his AK-47 from where it had been resting against the wall and half-sprinted, half-staggered in the direction of the stockroom. Tyler briefly looked past him and realised his living space had once been the room filled with screens which were linked up to the security cameras.

Tyler was torn. He had to go to the roof as Carver had instructed, but no one was checking on the Homestead where the civilians lived. Having a slightly stronger moral compass than Troy, Tyler felt the need to go and check on the helpless even if he couldn't do anything to aid them.

The majority of civilians were housed in a courtyard in the centre of a series of stores. Howe's Hardware was situated at the front and backed onto the courtyard, the other sides composed of smaller stores that leeched off of the customers who originally came for DIY equipment. Many families and civilians were housed in different stores, though a couple were empty, such as Victor's Comics, and were used as a quick way for guards to easily reach the outer perimeter.

As Tyler exited the solar-powered automatic doors that led to the homestead, he was met with the sight of some, but not all, of the civilians. At the front of the crowd of about ten was a man by the name of Vince. Tyler remembered him because he had somewhat of a short fuse and a sarcastic personality, and for some reason, didn't trust himself with an assault rifle.

Vince immediately stormed up to Tyler, getting in his face. "What the fuck is that noise?" he growled "Are you _trying_ to get us all killed?"

Tyler backed up. "Look, I don't know what the fuck that noise is, but we're dealing with it."

"'_Dealing with it'_?! Bill's said too many times that there's a herd on its way and this is only going to make things worse! It's been almost ten minutes; how is it not shut off yet?!"

"Hank was supposed to be dealing with it," Tyler admitted. "I ain't even supposed to be checking on everyone, Bill told me to go to the damn roof and deal with the lurker problem. I just need to tell all you guys to stay here, you can't go out because it's too dangerous."

A woman stepped forward. "Will we be any safer inside? I've seen the outer walls; they can't take a herd pounding against them. Some of us have families to look after and I don't think they'll be safe here."

A murmur of approval swept through the small group of civilians. "Look, I don't know," Tyler admitted, realising he had dug himself into a rather large hole, "Just, stay in here. I need to get to the roof and help sort out the lurkers."

"Look, dude, you've got stuff to do," said a man with unruly hair and a straw-like beard. "I've been doing shifts as a guard and I know another guy who is too. You deal with the walkers and we'll try and help everyone down here. We'll stay in the centre of the homestead and make sure no walkers get through the outer walls."

Tyler nodded. "Sounds like a plan, I'll get up there and try and come back later."

"You do that." Vince grimaced.

Tyler turned and ran back into the DIY store, leaving Vince, the other guard, and the rest outside. He quickly ascended the gantries that sat atop each aisle and found the ladder that lead to the roof, hearing muffled gunfire all the while. Pushing a skylight open, he was instantly met with someone shoving a weapon into his hands. "Where's Bill?" He asked.

The person who had gifted him the weapon shrugged frantically and spoke as he turned to head back to the edge of the roof. "We need him up here!" He gestured towards the roof and then pointed to another guard named Tavia. Tyler filled the gap between the two and began to fire. The walkers below moved rhythmically, swaying as they staggered towards the voiceover which still lingered in the air. The pungent smell of decaying human flesh filled the air. Tyler's hands hurt from gripping the AK-47. He grimaced and stopped firing, knowing they'd all run out of ammunition soon enough and then they'd all be screwed. He was going to die here. All the people in the Homestead were going to die, all because those prisoners couldn't stay in their pen.

Tyler growled, his hands sore, and put his finger back on the trigger. Lifting his weapon, he aimed at a walker wearing a yellowish flannel shirt, pointed the barrel at the back of its head, and fired.


	2. Sounds Like Trouble

**Day 854**

**Vince**

Vince awoke with a jolt. He was a light sleeper, and usually woke up many times each night. Sitting bolt upright, he could hear loud speech echoing through the air. Rising from the mattress that he slept on every night, which lay in the corner of an abandoned grocery store, he staggered around the dark room and fumbled for any form of light. Eventually he found a rechargeable wind-up torch and frantically rotated the lever on the side. Assuming the worst, he grasped his knife from a nearby counter and pushed the shop door, heading out into the courtyard beyond, which the grocery store backed onto along with many other stores. Vince was instantly blinded by the exposed light bulbs of the lamps overhead, and could clearly hear the sound of speech now. What surprised him was that it wasn't the yelling of bandits or the groan of walkers, it was a pre-recorded woman talking about garden furniture sales and DIY tools.

The next thing that struck him was how loud the noise was. Something that noisy was bound to attract walkers, and in his half-awake haze, Vince had forgotten about the herd Carver had been mentioning for days. The thought crept back into his mind and he instinctively shuddered, perhaps out of fear, perhaps out of anticipation. He suddenly felt reinvigorated, and gripping his knife, he swung round on one foot and ran back into the grocery store. The noise may have been a false alarm, but Vince wasn't taking any chances.

He slammed the door open and yelled, "Get up! Get up - now!"

Immediately his close friends, those he had arrived at the camp with, began sitting up and rubbing their eyes. One man in particular lay face down and buried his head under a pillow and slurred "Dude, what the hell? I'm trying to sleep."

Vince ran over and placed his foot on the man's side, pressing down until he rolled over. "Wyatt, something's wrong. We could be in danger and I don't have time for this shit."

Wyatt reluctantly pulled the pillow of off his head, scratching his wiry beard. "I'll get up if it's walkers or something, man, but… sleep…" his eyelids fluttered as he was overcome by fatigue. He rubbed his forehead with his palm and slowly pushed himself off of the ground, reaching for an assault rifle that rested against the wall. While Vince watched him, another inhabitant of the grocery store spoke up. "What's going on?" Shel said as she reached for a blue jacket that hung from a doorknob. "Is it walkers – like Wyatt said?"

Vince shrugged, "I don't know. There's just this noise outside, and it'll probably attract the herd to the south. Everyone just has to be aware that something's happening."

Wyatt looked around, before staggering out of the door. "Someone should go get Russell, dude." He slurred once more. Just as he passed over the threshold Shel called to him. "Wyatt."

The bearded man swivelled round and walked towards Shel, grabbing his glasses from her before sliding them onto his nose. "Thanks. Every damn time."

Vince gestured for the group to leave the store, but Shel didn't follow suit. "I'll be there in a second; I just have to get Becca. She can be a bit…" She finished her sentence with a hand gesture that told Vince that her sister could be quite tough to deal with. Vince nodded and turned to walk outside.

Already a somewhat large crowd had gathered, and Wyatt had blended into it. Everyone was looking around awkwardly, trying to work out why the voiceover was still running. "50% off all garden furniture; _Howe's_ that for a deal?"

Vince groaned at the awful marketing pun before joining the crowd. He briefly looked over his shoulder to see Shel and her sister, Becca, exiting the grocery store, the latter with a scornful look on her face as the former tried to explain the situation to her.

An unnerving murmur passed through the crowd as they tried to figure out what to do. Vince attempted to calm the crowd by standing at the front, trying to make them think that he had a plan.

After a few awkward minutes, a figure began to stride towards the automatic doors that led into the main building from the courtyard. As the entrance slid open, Vince recognised the person as one of Carver's more loyal guards, but couldn't remember his name. _Surely he knows something about what's going on_, Vince thought, _and I'm not in the mood for him to beat around the bush_.

The noise was getting to him now. It had been droning on for too long. The walkers had definitely taken note. He couldn't deal with this. He strode up to the guard, desperate to get an answer out of him. "What the fuck is that noise?" he growled, "Are you _trying_ to get us all killed?"

The guard instinctively took a step back. "Look, I don't know what the fuck that noise is, but we're dealing with it."

"'_Dealing with it'_?! Bill's said too many times that there's a herd on its way and this is only going to make things worse! It's been almost ten minutes; how is it not shut off yet?!"

"Hank was supposed to be dealing with it," The guard complained, sounding like he was making excuses for himself. "I ain't even supposed to be checking on everyone, Bill told me to go to the damn roof and deal with the lurker problem. I just need to tell all you guys to stay here, you can't go out because it's too dangerous."

Shel took a few steps away from the congregation of civilians and tried to take a calmer approach. "Will we be any safer inside? I've seen the outer walls; they can't take a herd pounding against them. Some of us have families to look after and I don't think they'll be safe here."

The crowd briefly nodded and muttered, agreeing with her point. "Look, I don't know," the guard stuttered, "Just, stay in here. I need to get to the roof and help sort out the lurkers."

"Look, dude, you've got stuff to do," Wyatt muttered, "I've been doing shifts as a guard and I know another guy who is too. You deal with the walkers and we'll try and help everyone down here. We'll stay in the centre of the homestead and make sure no walkers get through the outer walls."

The guard nodded, and sounded slightly more confident. "Sounds like a plan, I'll get up there and try and come back later."

"You do that." Vince grimaced. With that, the guard turned round and headed back inside, breaking into a sprint as the doors closed behind him.

Wyatt took several steps away from the crowd and stood next to Vince. They didn't make eye contact, instead watching the guard as he frantically climbed the gantries within the DIY store. "I'd better go find Russell." Wyatt muttered, and then turned around to walk into one of the many stores that lined three sides of the courtyard.

Evidently not everyone had heard the exchange with the guard. "What's going on?" A middle aged man with glasses called. "What's the noise?"

"I don't know." Vince murmured, "But I think they're controlling it."

"Well, it… it's going to attract lurkers." The man stuttered. "What do we do if they get in?"

Vince lowered his torch and withdrew his knife. "Everyone needs to stay where they can be seen; in the open, out here. We need to make sure everyone is awake – if people are still asleep in stores then they're just walker bait. We need to be out here where we can move around and be able to get into the main store if we have to."

Surprisingly, most of the civilians heeded his words, and turned to spread out and wake up anyone who had somehow slept over the voiceover. Only a few remained, presumably those who had done the same as Vince had; woken everyone in their store and then grabbed a weapon just in case. Shel was handing her sister a knife, but looked like she was telling her to use it only if she had to. Becca was shrugging and acting like it wasn't a big thing, but Vince knew that she wasn't as tough as she made out.

People were starting to resurface from the stores now. Some were weary, some were ready. One man was even armed with a fire axe. As the civilians met in the centre of the courtyard, they stopped in their tracks as gunfire thundered from above. Everyone looked up in an attempt to see where the shooting was coming from, but they couldn't see anything.

"Looks like the guards have started up." Someone observed. "What do we do now?"

Vince was silent. Someone else spoke up. "Everyone keep an eye out. They might break through but it's too dangerous to get that close to the outer perimeter."

"The extension wasn't finished. It's too weak." Another voice remarked from further back in the crowd.

"So we look for lurkers and then what?"

"We need to kill any of them that get in. It shouldn't be too many at a time and we should be able to keep things under control."

"Can't we just leave?"

"You see a damn way out? They're all around us. Things get too tough – we run, but it's too early to do that and we'd be throwing our lives away anyway. We might be able to control things here."

"And if we can't?"

"We're fucked."

Shel spoke up, "Everyone keep your voices down, they're attracted to sound and there's enough of that already. Everyone stand in a circle and look outwards, try and see if you can spot walkers coming through. Try not to break away from the group."

The group slowly readjusted itself so the one part of the area was visible to each person.

"Now what?" Someone asked.

Vince grimaced. "We wait for shit to hit the fan."


	3. A Major Breakthrough

**hDay 854**

**Wyatt**

Wyatt had not returned to the group. He was still looking for Russell. As far as Wyatt could remember, his friend had lived separately to himself, Vince, Shel and Becca.

Russell's place was a computer and electronics store parallel to the grocery store. When Wyatt entered, he was sure that Russell didn't live with anyone else – he was sure that his family would show up sooner or later and he wanted to be ready for them. Wyatt wasn't so optimistic; he and his best friend had been split up whilst trying to escape a bandit who wanted them dead. Wyatt had been left behind while he attempted to rescue a man who had been hit by their car, and his friend had been chased away by the bandit in a pickup. It seemed likely that his friend had run out of gas at some point and the madman had caught up to him.

Wyatt combed the electronics store for any sign of Russell, poking things with the butt of his rifle, but he couldn't find any sign of him aside from an empty bedroll. Confused, Wyatt slowly turned around - checking all angles of the room - but nothing aroused his suspicion.

A small creaking noise along with a snap came from outside; away from the entrance and towards the outer perimeter of the settlement. Wyatt turned in the darkness and carefully stepped towards the door parallel to the one that he came in from. "Russ..?" He asked nervously. He knew there were walkers outside and really didn't want to risk his neck, but his loyalty got the better of him.

Slowly pushing the door open with his elbow, Wyatt was instantly exposed to the gurgling of thousands of walkers and the gunfire that powered through them. Shocked, he fell back into the store, dropping his rifle, the door closing in front of him. He rubbed his forehead wearily and then opened the door again, pointing his rifle ahead of him. He could hear large groups of walkers banging against the supports that were supposed to keep them out, the wood creaking and slowly giving way. Wyatt swore under his breath as he called for Russell. "Dude, you out here?" he hissed in a hushed tone.

He took another tentative step forwards, aware that there were only some weak wooden walls between him and thousands of dead humans that somehow had the drive to get back up and try to eat the living.

Wyatt looked to his left, then followed the path slightly, making sure not to stray too far in case things went sour. As he made his way through the darkness, he called for Russell, his voice becoming more and more frantic each time. Once he was about six metres from the door, he decided it was too risky to go any further and turned back.

Something darted out the darkness and grabbed his leg. Wyatt fell forward, landing on his chest, his rifle flying out of his grasp. Winded, he tried to crawl forwards but there was nothing to hold onto. He flipped onto his back and saw a walker with both hands around his ankle, desperately trying to pull his foot into its mouth. As he exhaled rapidly, he lifted his free leg and shoved his foot into one of the walker's wrists in an attempt to shake it off. He stomped the hand three or four times until it snapped and was of no more use. The walker gurgled and groaned as it kept pulling with its other hand, but its strength was weakened with only one arm to use. Wyatt put his palms on the ground behind him and pushed, moving his entire body backwards and away from the walker – its undead fingers lost their grip momentarily and wandered in the air before latching onto his boot. He desperately tried to reach for his rifle as he watched his attacker, mirroring its open mouthed expression, and felt a quick burst of relief as the tips of his fingers brushed against the stock of his rifle, but he couldn't reach far enough to pull it towards him. He used all of his might to pull the weapon ever so slightly closer using his three middle fingers, and was satisfied when the end of the gun slid into his palm. He brought the weapon up and swung it round; pointing it at the walker's head and fired, annihilating its brain instantly.

He crawled backwards for a second, then threw himself over and pushed himself off of the ground, breaking into a sprint. He thrust the door of the electronics store inwards, and slammed it behind him, pressing his back against it to keep it closed while he gathered himself. He dropped his gun quickly and darted forward, grabbing the first thing he saw – some sort of display shelf for a sale – and threw it in front of the store to stop any immediate attackers from following him through the doorway. He picked up his firearm and then darted forwards toward the door that opened out into the courtyard. Just as he was about to wrench it open, something caught his eye – a sign had been made similar to those that would usually say 'Sorry, we're closed' or 'Welcome, we're open!" As the light from outside shined through, Wyatt could see words written on the opposite side of the sign. He flipped it over, and groaned. In his haste to find Russell, he had completely missed a signal from Russell that read "Going to have doctor check on leg after nasty fall, back later."

Before Wyatt could groan, two noises distracted him. The first was a thump from the door behind him, and then a gunshot came from ahead. He almost pulled the door open before realising that if walkers were getting into the courtyard, what was to stop people thinking he was one too? Instead, he used the wall to the side of the door as cover, and gently wedged his foot in between the door and the threshold, attempting to flick it open. The entrance swung out, and a gunshot bounced off of the wall, aimed at the door. Now people outside could hear him, Wyatt yelled, "DON'T SHOOT, I'M ALIVE!"

He peeked around the door and saw some civilians running towards him. He recognised a blonde-haired man with a pointed face as Miles, and another woman whose name he didn't know, but he had seen her around before. Miles was wielding a Glock 17 while the woman had some form of metal pole. Miles' eyes were wide open as he kept his weapon pointed at Wyatt. "Your leg," he remarked, "It's covered in blood. You bit?"

Wyatt shook his head, but Miles didn't relent. He kept his gun held up but took a quick look around. "Show me."

"Do we really have time for this, man?" Wyatt grunted.

Miles shrugged, "Look, man, I don't want to have to shoot you, but if you're hiding a bite I'm gonna have to. We've only had five lurkers break through so far, we've got time to check."

Wyatt groaned, then knelt down and lifted his bloodied trouser leg. Miles handed his gun to the woman, and then inspected the leg. "Looks good to me. I guess you had a run in with a lurker, right?"

"Yeah, I handled it."

"Looks like it. We'd better hustle back to the group." Miles pointed over at a large congregation of civilians at the centre of the courtyard. "Anyway, I thought you were supposed to get Russell – where is he?"

Wyatt shook his head as he lifted his rifle. "Seems like he's at the sick bay, we'll have to get him."

The woman spoke up. "Do you reckon he's safe there?"

Miles looked nervous. "We can't be sure; we'll have to send some people inside to get him and anyone else there." He turned to Wyatt. "What's up with him – do you know?"

Wyatt recalled what had been written on the sign. "Sounds like he fell over and hurt his leg or something. I'm not sure how bad."

"If he's limping that might be a problem." The woman said. "Not sure if he'll be able to keep up if we have to run or something."

"Well, we can't leave him." Miles argued. "I'll try and go in with some other people and we'll get him out of there. As far as I can tell the lurkers haven't actually got into the hardware store yet."

At this point Wyatt, Miles and the woman had rejoined the group. A couple of people turned to acknowledge them, but quickly returned to staring at the walls for any walkers that made their way through.

"Wyatt," Vince called, "Where's Russell? I thought you were getting him?"

"He's in sick bay." Miles reported as he kept walking, speaking before Wyatt could react. "We're gonna try and get him out."

Vince nodded as he brandished his knife. "Okay, you and Laura do that, take Shel or someone too. Get him out and then bring him back out here, unless we've moved back into the main store."

Wyatt was confused. "Aren't the guards supposed to be telling everyone what to do?"

"They're busy up there." Vince pointed towards the roof. "We have to look after ourselves; it'll be fine. We've been through worse."

Wyatt nodded. "Sure, when it was just you, me and Justin - and then Russ."

Vince agreed. "See, there was a herd back then, and we had less cover. We're way better off now…"

"Lurkers!" Someone shouted. Wyatt swivelled round, holding his rifle up. About six or seven walkers had stumbled into the courtyard, and it sounded like more were on their way.


	4. Adventures In Babysitting

**Day 854**

**Wyatt**

"Shit!" Vince snarled, and then turned to the group. "Laura, Miles, Shel! Get to the sick bay and find Russell!"

Shel started to argue. "But what about Becca?"

Vince didn't have the time to continue the exchange further. "Just… take her with you!"

Wyatt heard a yelp of surprise as Shel grabbed her sister's wrist, and pulled her in the direction of the main store, following Miles and the other woman named Laura. Vince patted him on the shoulder as the frequency of gunfire began to pick up. "Try and hold them off for as long as possible. If shit goes down, get the fuck inside and take anyone you can." With that, he ran off towards the opposite side of the courtyard.

Looking in the direction of Russell's 'home', Wyatt realised that his makeshift barrier must have been knocked over as walkers began to swarm through the doorway. Luckily they were bottlenecked for now, but he wasn't sure how much longer that would hold.

As he lined up his rifle with one of the walkers, he heard a crunch and a smash behind him. Ignoring the first walker for now, he turned and saw that a few walkers had smashed a window using their weight and were advancing on an unsuspecting bald man. Wyatt took aim at the walker closest to the man and fired, hitting it in the neck. The man turned and saw it fall, then looked at Wyatt and nodded at him in thanks. He then drew up his leg and stomped on the walker's skull for good measure.

Wyatt then looked back at the first set of walkers he had been concentrating on before the smash had distracted him. There had been three or four moments ago, but now that number was closer to nine. Wyatt aimed at one walker's head and fired, killing it instantly, but the shot attracted the attention of the rest. He backed up, putting more distance between himself and the group of dead, and heard a yell from behind. Startled, Wyatt turned around and saw the man he had previously saved had been bitten on the shoulder. The man turned to attack it, but the walker darted for his throat and pulled backwards. The man choked as his trachea was violently ripped out in a spray of blood. He collapsed and twitched momentarily before falling still.

Shocked, Wyatt reeled back as the walker knelt down and began to dig in to the man's stomach. Its victory was short lived, however, as Vince rushed past and stabbed it in the back of the head. It collapsed with a thud, and Vince continued onward, thrusting his knife into the eye socket of another walker.

Wyatt blinked a couple of times and then turned round again, regaining his vigour and spotting a walker mere metres away from him. It was a clear shot, so he managed to deal with it quickly, and then fired off three more shots at walkers further back. He winced as he heard multiple screams in rapid succession, and briefly saw Vince dash past again, taking out as many of the dead as possible.

By this point there were now twenty or thirty walkers in the courtyard and around six or seven of the thirty-two civilians had been killed, plus Miles, Laura, Shel and Becca had gone to find Russell, meaning around twenty one people were left. Vince flashed past Wyatt once more, as he stabbed a walker in between the eyes, but his knife slipped from his grasp as the dead creature fell. Wyatt saw another walker advance on his friend, who was desperately trying to wrench his weapon from the corpse's face. Wyatt took aim at Vince's potential attacker and fired, only to hear a devastating click.

He had run out of ammo.

Vince didn't know about the walker. He was going to be eaten.

Wyatt grimaced. He wasn't going to let what happened to the bald man happen to Vince. He growled, and turned to the side, keeping his eyes on the walker all the time. He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, placed his rifle on the ground, pointed his left shoulder forward, and ran at the walker.

It only took three steps to reach the unsuspecting living corpse, but Wyatt's body weight allowed him enough power to knock the walker over. He quickly twisted round, reaching for his now-empty rifle and held it by the barrel, using it as a bat to smash the walker's head in using the stock. More screams and yells of pain echoed as Vince released his knife, and turned to Wyatt.

"We need to go – get into the main store, find the others at the sick bay, and fucking leave. It's lost here."

Wyatt argued, "You said we'd all be safe if we stuck together! These are families being torn apart, man! We can't just leave 'em!"

Vince checked either side of him for walkers, and then explained. "There's what… fifteen people left at _best_? A lot of them are probably thinking the same thing – keep fighting and die, or run and live. It's that simple."

Wyatt looked around. Some people were running and some were being dragged back by walkers. There was a group of four barricading themselves into one of the stores and about fifty walkers slowly closing in with more on the way. Vince hissed "Come on, Wyatt!"

Wyatt regretfully turned to follow Vince into the Hardware store, wielding his rifle like a bat, but heard a high-pitched scream behind him. Wyatt couldn't be sure, but it sounded like a child – leaving adults to die was bad enough, but he wasn't going to allow himself to let a kid die. He turned to Vince, and said, "Dude, I am not letting a kid die. That is just fucking _wrong_."

Vince didn't argue. He turned slightly as if to head in alone, then stopped and turned back. He lifted his knife up, and then said, "I'll get your back."

With that, they nodded to each other and proceeded to charge through the forming herd in the direction of the screams. Wyatt knocked the walkers aside with the stock of his rifle and Vince finished the job, stabbing them in the head as they fell.

They came to a stop, barely able to make out the figure of a child cornered by advancing walkers. They were relatively close to the automatic doors that lead to the Hardware store, so escape would be relatively simple. Vince was busy slashing any corpses that tried to attack them from behind. "Wyatt, my hands are full here, if you're gonna…. get that kid, then you're… on your own."

Wyatt moved ahead, as Vince grunted with effort behind him. He smacked several walkers across the back of the head, but there were still three or four blocking his path to the kid. As the walkers were more interested in a screaming child than a man who was behind them, Wyatt managed to kneel down at get a decent look at the kid's position. It was a girl, no more than seven or eight, wearing a green overcoat that was several sizes too large for her. As she cowered in the corner, Wyatt racked his brains on how to get her attention. "What would a kid respond to?" He wondered. Then he thought of something. Looking at the girl, he made a noise under his breath.

"Psst."

Instantly he managed to capture her attention. She looked at him, wide-eyed as he whispered to her, "I'm gonna help you, okay? But you have to do exactly what I say."

The kid nodded, and the walkers were still ignorant to Wyatt, most of them more interested in Vince now. Wyatt spoke to the kid again, saying "I'm going to push these… bad guys apart, then you need to run towards me and we can get out of here."

The kid slowly nodded, but still cowered in the corner, showing no intent of running towards him. "I'm serious," Wyatt whispered, standing up, "You have to run as soon as I say."

The girl held eye contact with him the whole time, as he raised his hands behind two of the walkers to create a gap between them. His hands moved quick as he grabbed their shoulders and thrust them apart, forcing a path between them. "COME HERE!" He shouted. The kid moved forward, hesitated slightly, and then ran straight for him.

Once she was clear of the walkers, Wyatt pushed them forwards. They collapsed to the ground in a heap as he turned and picked up his rifle. The little girl still cowered beside him, and then grabbed his arm with both hands. He held his rifle in his left hand, and then looked at the kid. It was too dangerous to let her run along behind him in case she fell behind or any walkers lunged for her.

Wyatt groaned, and then picked the kid up with his free hand. She clung to him like a magnet as he ran towards Vince yelling his name. His friend finished slashing a walker's face and then joined them. They briefly looked at each other, and then dashed towards the doors of the Hardware Store, and what lay beyond.


	5. Sending A Message

**Day 854**

**Shel**

Shel chased Miles and Laura into the Hardware store, dragging a protesting Becca by the wrist. The two further ahead stopped as Miles bent over and caught his breath. Becca was still complaining. "Why'd you take me in here? I was going to kill a bunch of walkers!"

There was no time to argue. "It's not like I'd leave my sister out there to die." She said calmly, and then asked the other two, "Where are we headed?"

Laura pointed in several directions. "Main parking lot and stockroom is west, Carver's office is south, Homestead is east and the pen is north. Sick bay is near Carver's place, so we're heading south."

Gunfire rumbled from overhead – the guards were still shooting on the roof but their shots had become a lot less rapid, so it was clear that they would soon run out of ammunition.

Miles brushed his hair off of his face and then scratched the stubble on his chin. He lifted his Glock and took a few tentative steps forward, checking the aisles ahead of them. "Looks like we're clear," he remarked. He gestured for the others to follow him.

"How'd you even manage to get a gun, anyway?" Laura remarked, "You're not a guard. The only people that have guns are guards."

Miles smirked. "When you're as nervous as I am you find a way to get one. I did some stuff for Lowell."

Shel was surprised. "You don't seem nervous to me."

"Believe me, I'm shitting myself like you wouldn't believe – I just hide it well. I am not a brave man." He muttered. Shel briefly noticed Miles' hands shaking as he held the gun up. The man looked at Laura, and said, "You know where we're going, you lead." Laura nodded and lifted the metal pole she was wielding, before breaking into a fast walk. Miles quickly followed on behind her, with Shel and Becca taking up the rear.

"I can't believe you couldn't even let me kill one walker." Becca sulked. "This blows."

Shel sighed in disappointment. "What is it about walkers that you don't understand? Vince and Wyatt could be in trouble out there; they could get bit or worse."

"Well they wouldn't be in trouble if I was helping them." Becca huffed. Shel groaned; it was too hard to make Becca see sense. She didn't understand what walkers were capable of as she'd never truly had to deal with them; there had always been Roman and Clive, or Vince and Wyatt, or even Shel to do that for her. In a way Shel regretted not letting her sister deal with a few walkers. At this point Becca was completely unequipped to deal with them and didn't see them as the threat that they truly were. To her, walkers were simply an inconvenience.

"See anything?" Laura whispered.

Miles slowly rotated his body as he paced. "Nope, no walkers - nothin'."

"I'm surprised," Laura remarked as she closed in on the door to the sick bay, "Seems like things are actually going well for us."

"I'm not so sure about everyone outside." Shel noted, as multiple gunshots echoed through the air. However, it surprised her that their search for Russell had worked without a single hitch thus far. Laura reached for the door to the makeshift hospital ward, gripping her metal pole in one hand, but Miles gently stopped her and lifted his Glock. "Gun beats pole, my friend." He grinned wearily. As Laura pulled back, Miles reached for the doorknob and twisted. He gently pushed the door open, and took a couple of steps forward, into the room. Shel jolted back in shock as something large and blunt knocked Miles right on the head and he collapsed to the ground, dropping his gun. Laura darted into the room with her weapon raised, but quickly dropped her aggressive stance. She looked sideways at Shel and Becca, and then gestured for them to follow her into the room.

Miles groaned on the tiled floor as he clutched his head and slowly sat up. "What the hell, man?" he slurred. Laura stifled a laugh as Shel and Becca trailed her into the sick bay. Standing over Miles was the familiar form of Russell, holding some sort of wooden plank which he had used to batter Miles. "Sorry, man," he apologised, "I thought you were a walker."

"That's gonna leave a mark." Becca chuckled, somewhat revelling in the chaos of the moment. Shel briefly shot her an angered stare before turning to Russell. He was quite short, and had a bandage wrapped around the right leg of his jeans. "Ah, man, it was horrible," he explained, "Carlos wanted to keep me around overnight and said I shouldn't put any pressure on my leg, so I was the only one here. And then that alarm went off, and I started hearing walkers from outside, so I closed the door, grabbed this plank off the floor and waited."

"Agh, man," Miles grunted as he lifted himself to his feet, "I'll be lucky if I don't have… concussion or somethin'." He almost tripped over, but Laura quickly supported him. "Okay," he said, "Where are we headed?"

Russell looked puzzled, so Shel filled him in. "It seems like the Homestead is overrun, so Vince and Wyatt sent us to come and get you."

"They're still out there?" Russell asked, wide-eyed "How are we supposed to go back and get them if they're surrounded by walkers?"

"It's a horrible thing to say," Laura began, "But we'll have to give them a time limit and if they don't show, we'll have to leave without them."

Shel was torn, but slowly made up her mind. "I don't want to leave them, but I'll do what's best for Becca." She looked at her sister, who replied with a smile that she hadn't been expecting.

The group slowly turned to leave the sick bay, Russell limping and Miles rubbing his head. As they began to break into a fast walk, Russell reminded them, "You know we're surrounded on all sides, right? How are we gonna get out?"

"Can't walk out," Miles said, "We won't stand a chance. Can't fight our way out… can't… stay in here… can't…" His eyelids fluttered as his head drooped, presumably from the injury. Just before he was about to fall, he regained his stance, took a deep breath, eyes wide, and clicked his fingers. "Got it; I'm a genius."

He turned to run; his body still hunched over, but gestured for someone to follow him. "Shel, you're with me. Laura, Becca and Russell hang back and wait for Wyatt and Vince." On that note, he turned, held his gun up and ran in the direction of the stairs leading to Carver's office. Shel raised her hand to ask what he was doing, but he had already gone. She looked at Becca briefly, and then broke into a sprint behind him.

When she caught up to him, Miles had his ear pressed to the door of Carver's office. He put a finger to his mouth, hushing Shel, and then pointed at the door, whispering "Walkers inside." He gradually twisted the door handle, and lightly pushed the door open. Shel peeked around the door, noticing two walkers inside. One was standing up in the centre of the room, almost obscuring the other, which sat in Carver's chair. Both of them were reaching towards the PA system, which was still playing a pre-recorded voice track. "Think that's Bill?" She asked, looking at the walker in the chair. Miles shrugged, and raised his pistol in line with the head of the first walker. He closed one eye, fired, and it dropped to the ground. The second walker stood up, and attempted to cross the room to reach them, but it walked into Carver's desk and collapsed on top of it. Miles took aim again, and shot it in the very top of its head. "We're clear." He announced.

Shel looked behind her as she followed Miles into the office. The man kicked the first walker, rolling it onto its back with his foot, and inspected its face. "That's one of the guards, isn't it?" She asked.

"Looks like it. I've seen him before, but I don't know his name." Miles explained. "You know the other one?" He pointed towards the second corpse with his gun, but kept his eyes on the first. Shel scratched her head. "Looks like one of the new people from the pen."

Miles shrugged, "Guess we knew who turned the PA on, then." He walked over and looked through the large window that overlooked the whole DIY store.

"Speaking of which," Shel asked, "Shouldn't we turn the PA system off?"

Miles shook his head. "Leaving it on does keep the walkers coming this way, but turning it off means they spread out. It's better to keep them heading in one direction rather than not knowing where they are."

Shel shrugged. It didn't sound like a great plan, but it was better than nothing. At least they'd know where the walkers actually were. "What exactly was it that you came up here for, anyway?"

"Shel, Shel, Shel… always with the questions." Miles joked, "Like I said, we can't walk through a herd and we can't fight our way through…" he reached for a set of keys that sat on a hook attached to a board on the wall, "But no one said we couldn't _drive _our way out."

Interested by the prospect of actually making it through the herd, Shel pushed Miles for more detail. "You mean… drive the truck they used to get the new people here the other day?"

Miles nodded. "Totally; think about it… the truck has enough space for you, me, Becca, Vince, Wyatt, Laura and Russell and maybe a couple more."

"Sounds like a plan," Shel agreed. "Let's get down there."

Miles suddenly looked nervous. "Uh… hold on… there's something I wanna do first." He turned back to the PA system fiddled with a few switches, and then put his mouth to the microphone. "Testing… testing… one-two-three. Vince, this is Miles. We've successfully recovered Russell from the sick bay and it would be mighty fine if you could meet us in the DIY store."

Miles turned slightly to leave the room, but turned back and pressed the button again, saying "And now, a word from our sponsor." He quickly switched the PA system back to the pre-recorded female announcer, and then walked out of the room. Shel raised her eyebrows in confusions, and without making eye contact, Miles admitted, "Had to do it. When would I ever have the chance to do that again?"

Shel hesitated before following him, still confused at what he had just done. It was clever – letting Vince and Wyatt know they were in a good position – but it was also incredibly stupid, as all the guards had heard that too and now knew there was someone in Carver's office. "We'd better go," She pointed out, "The guards probably caught wind of what we're doing."

"It doesn't matter; they can't do anything once we're out of here." Miles said, "After all, I've got the _key_ to all of this."


	6. A Game Plan

**Day 854**

**Becca **

Becca was annoyed. Yet again she had been sidelined by someone and thus couldn't prove that she could handle herself. This always happened. Shel would always hold her back or someone else would always exclude her because she was 'just a kid'.

It really got on her nerves. How bad could walkers be, anyway? They were slow as all hell, most of them were missing limbs and stuff, and they were easily dealt with; just a blow to the head and bam – no more walker. They weren't exactly a handful.

As Becca sat cross-legged on the floor, repeatedly stabbing her knife into the ground in front of her, she wondered what her sister was up to. Russell and Laura were talking, but Becca didn't know what about. She didn't care. It wasn't interesting. It was boring.

Becca heard a shot come from Carver's office. Her head jolted instinctively, but she thought nothing of it. _"Probably just more walkers or some crap like that,"_ she thought. Then another shot echoed through the air. Becca still wasn't alarmed.

Laura had broken away from talking to Russell now, and was standing over her. The woman's shadow blocked the light that reflected off of her knife. "Becca, you okay?" Laura asked. Becca didn't answer – not immediately, anyway. She shrugged and didn't make eye contact, keeping her eyes on her knife. Laura sighed and turned back to Russell.

They were talking about his leg injury or something. Becca wasn't that engaged; all she heard was that Russell fell somehow, and he went to the sick bay. It was hardly an appealing tale. Russell was only going to slow them down, so she didn't even know why they'd bothered getting him. Sure, she liked him to some extent, but to Becca, survival was always the top of her list.

A buzz resonated through the air followed by a deep popping noise as the pre-recorded announcer track ceased. That had got on Becca's nerves too. Then Miles' voice powered through the PA system. "Testing… testing… one-two-three. Vince, this is Miles. We've successfully recovered Russell from the sick bay and it would be mighty fine if you could meet us in the DIY store."

Becca shuddered. _"That was stupid,"_ she thought, _"Sure, Vince heard you, but so did the guards, and the walkers, and the rest of the dead weight out in the courtyard."_

She continued lightly stabbing the ground, wondering whether she should try that thing that prisoners did where they put their hand on the ground and stabbed in between the fingers. Knowing her luck she'd probably just cut her hand off at the wrist or something, though, so she refrained from doing so.

The buzz and pop sounded once again, and Miles spoke once more; "And now, a word from our sponsor."

The robotic voice of the pre-recorded woman came again. Becca wondered why Miles hadn't turned it off completely, but then realised she still didn't care. She heard footsteps coming from the direction of Carver's office, and then saw Miles appear, followed by Shel. _"Those two shots must have been at walkers, then," _Becca noted, _"I guess it wasn't Miles shooting Shel or something. That's the only reason I'd be alone with someone – kill them."_

Miles and Shel briskly walked in the direction of the group. Miles checked how much ammo he had left and looked annoyed. Shel still didn't have a weapon.

"So, care to explain what you went up there for?" Russell asked, limping towards the two. Miles grinned and withdrew what looked like a car key. Russell tilted his body in the direction of the stockroom and nodded, grinning. "Good idea." He remarked.

Shel gripped Becca's arm and lifted her off of the ground. Becca grunted and pulled her elbow away from her sister's grasp, and then slid her knife into a makeshift sheath that she kept in the side pocket of one of her trousers.

"We need to find Vince and Wyatt, and then we're leaving." Shel declared.

Russell spoke up. "It makes more sense if we all go to the truck together instead of risking getting split up."

There was a murmur of agreement, and the group headed back in the direction of the Homestead, where Vince and Wyatt would hopefully appear. Miles and Shel sprinted to the automatic doors and pushed them shut, ready to let go and create a path for the other two if they arrived. "We give them ten minutes," Miles ordered, "and if they don't show, we leave 'em. If things go to shit, we leave 'em."

Becca watched as walkers slowly swarmed around outside. She didn't manage to notice any living people outside aside from four or five people barricading themselves into a store. For all she knew, Wyatt and Vince could be dead.

After about two or three minutes, the group perked up at the sound of someone yelling. Nothing happened for around fifteen seconds, and then a body thumped against the door, covered with blood. Thinking it was a dispatched walker, Shel and Miles held the doors closed, until it rose and slammed its fist on the door, wide-eyed. They instantly recognised who it was, and let the doors slide open for Vince to dive in. The man recovered himself, breathing heavily as he collapsed to the ground. "Wyatt… coming…" he panted, lifting his hand towards the door. The group pulled the doors open as another shape charged towards them, running too fast to be a walker. Wyatt burst in, wielding his rifle like a club in his left hand, while his right supported a child whose arms were wrapped around his neck.

Miles and Shel held the doors shut while Russell limped over and used a trolley to block them. The two let go and then helped Vince up. Miles lifted his Glock and pointed it at Vince. "Bit?" He asked. Vince looked confused, so Miles elaborated; "Stand up and put your arms out, like you would for an inspection at an airport."

Too confused to argue, Vince put his arms wide and set his feet at shoulder width. Miles quickly inspected any suspect bite areas, such as his neck, wrists, hands and calves. "You're clear," He declared, and then turned to Wyatt, "Your go – and Laura, check the kid."

Wyatt set the girl down and put his arms out like Vince had. Miles checked him over while Laura knelt down beside the cowering child. "It's okay," she said warmly, "I just need to check to make sure the lurkers didn't hurt you or anything, okay?"

The kid slowly nodded as Laura instructed for her to roll up her sleeves, showing her how to do so with her own. Laura then checked the sides of her neck, and inspected her for any blood, but there was none. "Kid's clear." She announced.

Miles patted Wyatt's shoulder and told him he was good to go, and the group formed a circle. Vince was still trying to catch his breath. "Okay… so that trolley isn't gonna hold for long; where are we going?"

The group exchanged glances as Miles lifted the truck key. "We're gonna have ourselves a joyride."

Vince tilted his head as he thought about it and then nodded in approval. "It's probably our best shot, we may as well try."

Shel agreed, "There's no other option."

"We're gonna want to avoid the guards," Russell explained, "They probably won't like us stealing their ride."

"So it's settled," Miles confirmed, "Let's hustle, people." He lifted his Glock and threw the truck keys to Wyatt. "You're driving." He ordered.

The group broke into a sprint. Miles and Laura were at the front wielding their respective weapons, Shel and Becca composed the second row, with Vince, Russell and Wyatt – who was carrying the other girl – bringing up the rear.

Becca withdrew her knife again, preparing to attack any walker that came her way. One way or another, she'd finally get to kill one, whether Shel wanted to hold her back or not.


	7. The Great Escape

**Day 854**

**Russell**

Russell's leg pulsed with pain every time he put his foot down. He was barely catching up to the group, but didn't want to slow them down.

It didn't help that he was carrying a huge plank of wood for a weapon, either.

Russell cringed as he remembered how he'd gained his injury. Bonnie had left him at the breach while she went to get Bill, Troy and the others. Carver showed up a couple of minutes later with bloody hands, and his goons looked afraid of him. While Russell stood on top of the building and pointed out the breach in the barrier, he had slipped and landed on his side. It made him feel stupid, and the laughter of Troy and the rest had only made things more embarrassing. At that moment Russell just wished his family were there.

Not that it mattered any more; this settlement was falling, he could see that now. He and the rest were sprinting in the direction of the stockroom, leaving the rest behind. Russell felt bad for leaving so many, but in the end, he truly had to focus on the survival of those he held closest; he'd survived a year in the wilderness with Vince and Wyatt, and another year on top of that in the settlement. They hadn't tried to kill him yet, and they weren't psychos like Nate was, so Russell elected to stick with them to the end.

The group halted as they made it to the stockroom. Miles, who seemed to be acting leader, began to speak.

"We gotta be careful," the blond-haired man said, "We don't know what behind this door, so stand back." He quickly grabbed the handles of the double doors that led to the stockroom, and pulled them open.

Instantly he reeled back, yelling, "Jesus fucking Christ!"

"What is it?" Shel asked, pulling her sister close to her.

Miles doubled over and retched, before finally forcing out words. "Holy shit… you may want to cover the kids' eyes."

He staggered away from the double doors, still hunched, as Vince and Laura took a peek inside. "Oh… man… that is just…" Vince stuttered, as Laura turned away and crushed her eyes shut.

Russell wondered what the fuss was about. "What is it?" He asked, pushing forwards, but he instantly regretted wanting to know what 'it' was.

'It' was Bill; Bill with a gaping, bloody maw where his face had been, no less.

Russell kept his eyes on it. It was quite a sight. "What the hell… who do you think did this?"

Miles pulled himself up briefly, and coughed, "No walker did that. They go for the stomach… Shel and I saw one of the guys from the Pen, but he was dead… maybe it was the rest."

Wyatt nodded, his movement constricted somewhat by the child hugging his neck. "Yeah, man, we haven't seen any of them yet."

Russell turned to Shel. "Becca doesn't need to see this." At his remark, the younger sister huffed. "I'm not a baby." She pushed the doors open, but instantly fell pale at the sight. "Oh… god it… smells…" she stated, and then proceeded to vomit onto the concrete floor of the room ahead.

Wyatt remained the only person who hadn't seen the sight, along with the kid he was looking after. Spotting a tarpaulin by a stack of crates, he pointed it out to the others. "Cover up whatever's over there with that." He said, "We don't need to see it, dudes."

Vince shrugged and jogged over to the tarp, carelessly throwing it onto Carver's caved-in head. The corpse's head tipped to the side with a wet flopping noise, causing more than one of the group to shudder and retch.

"Now that that's dealt with," Vince stated, "Let me propose something; we're in the stockroom, they keep a lot of shit here. Let's see if we can find anything before we run for the truck."

The group fanned out to search what had been left behind in the stockroom. Russell noticed that there were still three walkie talkies left in the charging dock and lifted one up. "Think these could be handy?" he asked, showing the group.

"Let's just take the whole charging station," Laura pointed out, "If we ever find a place with power we'd be able to use the radios more than once." Russell nodded and knelt down beside the power cord, giving it a gentle tug. "What're we gonna carry them in?" He asked, "They're too big to carry loose."

Vince patted him on the back and revealed some backpacks he'd recovered. "Put one docking station in here. We don't have enough space to carry both." He threw Russell one backpack and then sat down on a crate and put his head in his hands.

"How you feeling?" Russell asked, slightly concerned. Vince had been fighting for about fifteen minutes solid, and probably didn't have a lot of energy.

"Not gonna lie to you, I don't feel great." Vince admitted, "I'm not bit, I'm just… I'm exhausted, and we still have to make it out of this herd. Whoever's driving still has to get past all those walkers and get into the cab, so we're gonna have to make them a path too."

Russell shook his head. "Don't worry about that. The others and I will take care of it; you work on getting all this stuff into the back of the truck."

Vince didn't respond but pushed himself off of the crate, wiping his brow. He slowly gripped the backpack – now filled with the charging dock – and began pacing towards Shel and Becca, who were both packing canned food into backpacks.

"I can't believe we're doing this." Russell heard Laura mutter. He looked around at her, but she didn't realise he had heard. She was still speaking under her breath, talking about her disapproval of looting the place and then 'fucking off'.

Others in the group were starting to stand up and slide backpacks on. Miles replenished the ammo in his Glock, and then slid the magazine back into the weapon. "What did you all get?" He asked.

Shel lifted up her backpack. "Becca and I have two packs of food, bottled water and anything edible."

Miles nodded in approval, and then turned to Vince who showed him a backpack filled with miscellanea such as gas lamps, food and matches. Wyatt then lifted up several spare bedrolls which the community would have used for newcomers, and passed them around too. Russell displayed his set of radios, and Laura handed out a few weapons – most of them more dangerous than Russell's plank. "I also got some ammo for your rifle." She said glumly to Wyatt.

"Ok, we're stocked," Vince said, crossing his arms. "Now, how the heck do you suggest we get to the truck?"

"We need to clear a path for Wyatt," Russell confirmed, "but how to we do that?"

"Now I think about it, I should have turned off the alarm," Miles said, "That would've made them spread out more, making them easier to deal with. It'll take too long to go back and turn it off; we'll just have to go with what we've got."

Wyatt stepped forward. "I'm driving, but I've got this clinging to me like a lemur or something," he gestured to the anonymous child he had rescued earlier. "I guess she can go in the passenger seat, but I'm gonna need the rest of you guys to help me out then run 'round the back of the truck and get in."

Miles nodded. "Laura, Shel and I will cover you, then loop back round. Becca and Russell should help Vince chuck all the gear into the truck."

"But…" Becca began, but Miles quietly hushed her. "No. There's no time to argue; not when our lives are on the line. We have to get _out_ of here. We all know what we're doing?"

"We'll go first," Wyatt said, looking at Vince, Becca and Russell who would be packing the back of the truck. "You guys bring up the rear, I have to unlock the door to the back part… or… whatever it's called."

Miles and Laura lifted their weapons, and began pacing towards the large opening that led outside. They crouched down and hopped off of the raised platform onto the ground, and then gestured for Shel and Wyatt to follow. Russell armed himself with a few packs, and then trailed the rest, Becca and Vince behind him.


	8. Follow The Signs

**Day 854**

**Vince**

As he hopped off of the platform out into the parking lot, the first thing Vince saw was the veritable ocean of walkers converging on the settlement, mingling around. The mass gurgling and choking was intense, and the smell was terrible.

Vince turned to Russell, who was standing next to him. "They haven't noticed us." He noted. Russell nodded, surprised. "Doubt that'll last long, though," he muttered.

Their conversation was cut off by a rattling to their right. Miles was sliding the door to the back of the truck open. "Damn thing wasn't even locked!" He remarked, "Today is our lucky day. You folks better get packing, I've gotta cover Wyatt."

Vince nodded and carried the numerous packs he was carrying over to the truck. He dropped them in a pile on the ground, which was quickly added to by Russell and Becca. Miles looked at them silently, and then led Shel, Laura and Wyatt to the front of the vehicle. "Stay quiet." He ordered.

The three who were packing the bags into the truck looked at each other. Vince lifted a bedroll and threw it into the vehicle, and the other two followed suit. He lifted up a bag filled with food, and slid it in. "That ought to last us a while," he muttered, bending down to pick up another bag. Before he could do so, his leg was tugged out from under him by an unknown assailant.

Vince reached for his knife but he had dropped it during his fall. In the split second it took him to turn over, he instantly recognised the gaunt face of the walker attacking him, with its distinguished moustache and its camouflage shirt. He tried shaking the walker's arm off of his leg while hissing for help. Russell turned and broke into a sprint, but his weak leg buckled underneath him and he collapsed, struggling for breath.

Vince's calf was in dangerously close proximity with the corpse's mouth – once it bit, he would either become one of them, or his leg would have to be taken off. Not wanting to deal with either of those options, he tried pulling himself backwards, asphalt digging into his palms, while twisting his foot to kick the walker in the face.

The walker was pushed backwards as Vince thrust his leg at its head, but it did not relent. It used its body weight to dive on top of Vince, who grabbed its wrists in an attempt to push it off, but it was too heavy to move in his already weakened state. He released the walker's arms and instead gripped its head in a last-ditch attempt to save himself. Deliberately avoiding the walker's mouth, Vince gripped the sides of its head and pushed violently to the left. The walker grunted, but pulled itself back into place.

Vince was a goner, and he knew it. Russell was still trying to stagger back to his feet, but his leg had given out on him. Still, Vince wouldn't give up until the water tore his throat out. He pushed its head upwards, providing himself with space, and attempted to fold his knee under it to kick it off.

His plans were cut short as a figure stood over the walker. The walker kept its eyes on Vince, unaware of whomever was behind it, but its eyes fell still with a satisfying but soft thud and its entire body relaxed on top of him. Vince pushed the walker off of him, and saw that it had been stabbed in the back of his head. His saviour offered a hand to him and he was helped to his feet.

Standing with an expression of pride on her face was Becca. She let Vince's hand go, and then bent over to pull her knife from the walker's head. As she did so, she told Vince "You owe me."

Vince looked around awkwardly, and helped Russell onto his feet. His friend didn't last long; his foot gave out on him and he almost collapsed again. "I… I can't do anything, man." He said, "You're gonna have to leave me or something, I dunno."

"The hell we will," Vince argued, "Becca, I could do with some help, we need to get Russell into the truck."

Becca was looking at the herd with her arms crossed. "They're coming, you know." She remarked, sounding surprisingly disinterested. She picked up and threw the last two packs into the truck and took a few steps towards Vince and Russell. "How're we gonna do this?" She asked.

Vince climbed up into the back of the truck. "Russell, grab my hand, and Becca, you help him stand up so he can reach."

Becca supported Russell and tried to push him up so he could reach Vince's arm. Vince grabbed his hand and pulled him up into the truck. "Russell, get as far back as you can. Everyone else is gonna need space to get in and we don't want to get them bottlenecked."

"Shit," Russell remarked, "You see that walker that attacked you?"

Vince nodded, "Wonder how he got out here, or why. Maybe he was following the guys from the pen."

Becca chuckled, "Look, he's got a hole in his crotch. Someone shot him there." She tried to stifle her laughter but it was too much. "Dick got shot in the dick." She giggled.

A gunshot instantly cut her off. "Shit, that was probably Miles or something," Vince grimaced, "Becca – quick!" He offered his hand to her, and pulled her into the van too. They heard rapid footsteps coming round the side of the truck, and Miles, Laura and Shel appeared. Miles was holding his gun up, looking frightened. "Oh… god," he moaned.

"What happened?" Russell asked frantically, "Is Wyatt...?"

"No, we're good," Laura said, "But it's a small comfort, the herd is fucking huge."

"Quickly, get in." Vince ordered, helping them up. The recognisable sound of an engine humming to life started up as Miles leapt into the truck. Shel climbed in next, followed by Laura. Vince pulled the sliding door down, but it didn't stick. "Fuck!" he exclaimed, "Fucking door's loose!"

"Just get back, we need to deal with any walkers that get in," Russell said.

Miles banged on the back wall of the truck for Wyatt to hear from the cab, instructing him to go. The truck started moving with a jolt, and then began building speed. Eventually it slowed down again, but the reason was apparent. The noise of walkers had become all the more loudly, so it was evident that Wyatt was attempting to keep the vehicle in decent shape to make their escape more possible.

"Fucking door's still open," Vince growled. "They're gonna get in if we're moving this slow."

Miles lifted up his Glock, "I can hold them off for a while, he offered, "But not long enough for us to get out of the herd."

As if prompted by his words, walkers came into vision from either side of the truck. Rasping and gurgling, they reached for the innards of the truck and the survivors that sat inside. Miles lifted his gun and picked off a few, but like he had said, there were too many for him to take.

After the first wave of walkers had been cut down ever so slightly, Laura lifted her metal bar and walked over to the sliding door. "We need to shut this thing." She demanded.

"Laura, get out of the way!" Miles growled, "I can't shoot them if you're in my way!"

More walkers were creeping around the slowly moving truck. "Holy shit that's…" Russell pointed out, looking at a walker wearing a flannel shirt. "That's the doc!" He gasped.

Laura turned to look at Russell as she tried to slam the door down. "Who is..?" She asked, but her words were cut off by the van hitting something. Laura instantly lost her balance and tipped backwards, her head leaning out of the truck for only a second.

But a second was all the walkers needed.

The walker that had previously been named Carlos reached up and grabbed Laura's shoulders, pulling her down so that only her legs remained in the vehicle. Shel screamed in horror as Miles yelled and lifted his gun up, firing at the walker, but he missed. The corpse of Carlos lifted its head, bared its teeth and then thrust its head down at Laura's neck, ripping her throat out.

"Oh my fucking god!" Russell cried in horror.

"WYATT, FUCKING DRIVE!" Vince yelled.

It took a few seconds, but the truck started picking up the pace. Laura's body was dragged from the back of the truck by Carlos and numerous other walkers as the group stared on in horror.

Russell stared wide-eyed at the terrible sight, while Vince closed his eyes and looked away. Shel put her arm around Becca's shoulder and looked at the floor of the compartment which they were sat in. Miles whimpered, his face frozen in a stare of complete terror. His hands still held up his Glock, but the weapon slowly slipped from his hands. He dropped the gun and drew his legs inwards, crossing his arms over his knees, before dropping his head and emitting a groan of despair.

**Day 854**

**Wyatt**

Wyatt was making steady progress. The herd was getting thinner, the walkers were moving towards the settlement and its blaring voiceover, and his friends were somewhat safe.

The kid he had rescued earlier was sat in the passenger seat, resting her chin in one of her palms. She probably had no idea what was going on. Wyatt wondered whether her parents had been at the settlement or if she'd lost them long before. This was no world for a child to live in.

Vince had yelled at him moments ago, as the sound of gunshots had powered through the air. Wyatt assumed the group had run into trouble, and it was his job to get them to safety, so he had sped up. He had then heard screaming – something bad had happened. He wasn't sure what it was, but he couldn't worry about it just yet.

As he shifted gears, Wyatt kept his eyes on the road. The thousands of corpses ahead were illuminated by the headlights, fresh and dry blood alike shimmering in the glow.

Wyatt sighed. Where would they go from here? The gear they had gathered back at the settlement wouldn't last forever. Almost every town had been cleared out at least a year ago, so it'd be hard to find any more supplies.

Wyatt's train of thought was interrupted as his newfound ward spoke for the first time. "Thank you."

Wyatt kept his eyes on the road, but smiled. "What for?"

The kid looked down, avoiding looking at him. "You helped me… it was scary."

"I'm nothing special," Wyatt grinned, "Anyone would've helped you, dude."

The girl hesitated. "Where are we going?"

Wyatt didn't want to make her worry, so he just said, "Somewhere safer than where we were before; someplace where the walkers won't be able to find us." He decided to change the subject to something less worrying. "You know, I saved you and everything, but I don't even know what you're called… you got a name, man?"

She looked at him, and then looked at her feet. "I'm… Annie. I'm seven."

"Pleasure to meet you, Annie, my name's Wyatt. I'm old."

"How old?"

"Pretty old." Wyatt grinned.

Annie smirked.

Wyatt pushed his glasses up his nose. "You should try and get a bit of sleep or something, dude. We'll probably be driving for a long time and if you're anything like me, you'll hate car journeys… especially considering how my last one went."

With that, Annie tried to shift into a more comfortable position on her seat. Eventually a gentle snoring emanated through the cab, and Wyatt felt guilty. He'd gotten himself into this. He'd saved her, and now she was his responsibility. While he had found purpose, he'd also been condemned by it.

Wyatt didn't know how to feel. He kept his eyes on the road as he finally escaped the herd, and saw some road signs as he turned out of the parking lot.

"_May as well follow the signs"_, Wyatt decided, _"Hopefully they'll lead to a better place."_

_**END OF EPISODE 1**_

_**Next Time on The Walking Dead**_

"This place looks as good as any."

* * *

"We don't know how long our food is gonna last, what do we do when it runs out?"

* * *

"What happened… it's not your fault."

"I could've saved her. It's my fault she's dead. It's on me."

* * *

"Who knows if anyone else made it out? They'll probably come after us for stealing all that shit in the stockroom!"

* * *

"Hi, there… you folks look like you could use a hand or two! What's got y'all so stressed?"

* * *

"You know, Wyatt… kids are only good for one thing in this world – getting you killed. Either you die for her, or she dies because you didn't get it right."


	9. EPISODE TWO - LOST IN TRANSIT

**EPISODE 2 – LOST IN TRANSIT**

**Day 855 – Morning**

**Shel**

Shel was awoken by the sound of brakes screeching to a halt. Her head ached as she lifted it off of the cold floor of the truck. Becca was sleeping with her head on a backpack next to her, while Vince and Russell were out cold, sitting up against the walls of the compartment. The only other person who was awake was Miles, who sat in the corner with his knees pulled into his chest as he stared at the ground. He wasn't paying attention to Shel, but she understood why. Laura had been one of Miles' closest friends, if not more, and all he had left to remember him by was the stain of blood that was soaked into the metal opening at the other end of the truck.

Deciding that Miles needed time to gather his thoughts, Shel left him alone and stepped towards the loose door that had got Laura killed. Lifting it just enough to squeeze out she dropped onto the ground outside.

The first thing she noticed was the cold. It wasn't freezing, but the temperature had dropped worryingly over the last week or so; Shel feared that soon it'd be cold enough that the group would start getting ill, and without a doctor such as Carlos they wouldn't know what to do with most of the medical supplies they'd acquired.

Shel turned and walked around the vehicle, towards the cab. As she did so, she admired the rolling hills in the distance. The truck had come to a halt on a road at the top of a hill, surrounded by tree cover, with no walkers in sight and a few houses dotted around the landscape. It wasn't the worst place they could have stopped, by far.

As she made it to the cab, the door on the driver's side opened and Wyatt stepped out. He was momentarily shocked by her presence, but quickly regained himself. "This place looks as good as any," he remarked, "What happened last night? Vince yelled at me to drive."

Shel realised that Wyatt did not know about Laura's death. "The door was loose," she explained, "Laura tried to fix it. The truck jolted and she fell out… the walkers got her."

Wyatt's eyes widened, "Damn," he grimaced, "Nasty way to go."

"Miles isn't doing too well," Shel admitted, "I'm kind of worried about him."

"Yeah, man, I don't blame him." Wyatt confessed.

The two shared an awkward silence until something crossed Shel's mind. "So, uh… I noticed we have an extra passenger." She quickly nodded in the direction of the cab of the truck. Wyatt didn't instantly realise what she was referring to, but then his face was overcome with understanding. "Oh, the kid, right? Me and Vince were gonna run into the hardware store, but I heard her screaming and I couldn't leave. I couldn't do that. But now, man, I'm just worried about something else happening to her – or the rest of us."

Shel put her arm on his shoulder. "You did the right thing." She told him. "Don't worry about that. I've been here for Becca all this time, and you're not on your own. We're all responsible."

Wyatt nodded as they heard footsteps behind them. Vince was walking up to them as he passed through the thin missed, rubbing the back of his head. "Remind me not to sleep sitting up again," he muttered. "Last night was bad. Miles isn't taking it well – he's sitting in there with a thousand yard stare."

"So I've noticed." Shel stated. "What about the other two – Becca, Russell?"

"Still sleeping," Vince shook his head, "I never was a deep sleeper like them. Anyway, why did we stop?"

Wyatt patted the side of the truck, saying "Outta gas. If we're carrying on, it's on foot."

Shel shrugged, "Not unless we find gas."

"Carver practically cleared out the _state_," Vince exaggerated, "You think of somewhere we'll be able to find it, you let me know. I'm thinking I check out one of those houses and see what's inside, and we hole up in one for a while until we get our heads together."

"Could be walkers in those houses, dude," Wyatt warned, "You'd be better off going with someone else."

Shel agreed, "Sure, but the problem is who to take. Russell's injured, Wyatt and I are both looking out for kids and taking them would be putting them in danger."

"That leaves Miles," Vince muttered, "I don't want to have to deal with it, but he's a good shot and hopefully it'll take his mind off of… things."

"I'll go wake the others," Shel said, "Vince, come with me and get Miles. The sooner you take a look around, the better."

"I'll, uh… stay here and… keep guard." Wyatt muttered.

Shel and Vince walked around the cab and down the side of the vehicle. A thin morning mist had gathered, but she was sure it would fade as the day went on. Becca was sitting on the edge of the opening to the back of the truck, furiously rubbing her eyes. Russell was also awake, standing outside the truck, tentatively putting weight on his leg.

"Where's Miles?" Vince asked.

Becca looked at him wearily and then pointed down the hill to the side of the road. Miles was standing at the bottom, the uncut grass towering to his knees as he stared onward through the fog.

"I'll go talk to him," Vince muttered, before setting off. Shel didn't manage to halt him, but planned on going too. She looked at Russell and said, "Keep an eye out for walkers. Get one of the guns or something."

With that, Shel turned and rushed down the hill to catch up to Vince. They briefly held eye contact before setting their eyes on Miles, who was standing deadly still. "We don't know what he'll do," Shel murmured, "If he lashes out then we need to be ready, and it's easier to support him if there are two of us."

Once they came within a few metres of their fellow escapee they slowed to a halt. Vince opened his mouth to speak, but it seemed like Miles already knew of their presence. His head titled towards them but his eyes did not make contact. "It's my fault, you know." He said, "I could've shot Carlos, and I could've saved her."

Shel reached out to him. "What happened… it's not your fault."

"I could've saved her. It's my fault she died. It's on me."

Vince gripped Miles' shoulder and turned him round to face them. The man's eyes were red and his fringe was flattened down on his face. His usual expression of relative happiness was now replaced with pure depression.

"Miles," Vince said, "I know you're hurting right now, but we all lose people at some point. There's no use dwelling on it, we need to be constructive; this sort of thing happened to people even when the world was how it was."

"I… I can't," Miles mumbled as he looked at the ground, "I can't move on knowing it was my fault, man."

"You need to realise it wasn't your fault. There was no way you were gonna get a clear shot, no way you were gonna shoot that walker that grabbed her. I wouldn't have been able to do it, neither would Shel. You were just the man with the gun at the time – at least you tried while we all watched."

Miles wiped his eye as he made an incoherent noise; it was unclear what it meant but it could have been read as understanding or acceptance. Miles wiped the sweat from his face and then began the slow walk up the hill. "What're we doing, anyway?" he grunted.

Vince followed his tracks, explaining that they were going to scope out one of the houses, and that he needed someone that he could trust with him. Shel resented the remark, but then realised that Vince was being subtle and was flattering Miles to get him on-side.

As they made it back to the truck, Shel watched as Vince and Miles slowly trudged in the direction of the nearest house.

Concerned, she witnessed them fade into the fog, and prayed that they'd both come back alive.


	10. Smoke And Mirrors

**Day 855 – Morning**

**Becca**

Becca was bored again. She sat in the opening of the truck, drumming her palms against the metal either side of her as she racked her brain for something to do. Shel had returned with Vince and Miles, who were now scoping out one of the houses, but then she'd disappeared around the front of the truck again.

Russell was hopping around on his good leg, desperately trying to put weight on the injured one. Becca watched him, and quickly found it hard to stifle a chuckle. Russell quickly shot her an irritated glance to which she responded with a sheepish look away, scratching behind her ear with one of her hands.

Vince and Miles were scoping out a house, and the attention of Shel and Wyatt was diverted. Becca realised that this was as good a chance as she was going to get to do what she wanted – to explore the area like she had done back at the old truck stop camp with Roman and the others. She quickly patted down the pocket on her right thigh, reassured that her knife was there, and hopped out of the truck, walking straight past Russell. It's not like he'd be able to catch up and she'd already be doing what she wanted by the time he'd be able to tell Shel.

"Hey, what're you doing?" Russell asked, surprised.

"Having a look around," Becca said without making eye contact, "What are _you_ doing?"

"Y-you can't just go out on your own, Becca," Russell pointed out, "what if there are lurkers or something?"

"So what?" Becca argued, "I'll just deal with them like I did last night. They're no big thing."

Russell sighed. Becca was going to get what she wanted no matter what he did. "Well… at least let me come with you," he said, raising a pistol he'd found in the supplies they'd procured from the settlement the night before, "At least let me have your back. If you wanna go look around so badly, then just slow down for me, okay?"

He limped along next to her, muttering, "Man, your sister is gonna kill me for this."

Becca shrugged and continued walking, her hands in her coat pockets. At least Russell had chosen to follow her rather than tell on her, and she was thankful for it.

The road stretched back in a straight line with no twists or turns, heading into a thick forest before disappearing entirely. A few signs were littered either side of the road with names such as 'Parker's Crossroads' and 'Huntingdon' on them. Having heard of neither place, Becca couldn't determine where they were.

Just as she made her way to the first few trees, Russell stopped her. "No, ain't no way we're going in there alone."

Becca groaned, "Ugh, why not?"

"Who knows how many lurkers are hiding in there?"

"Lurkers don't hide, Russell," Becca remarked in a condescending tone, "They're too stupid."

"Well, what about that one that attacked Vince last night? We sure as hell didn't notice that."

Becca smirked, "That one is dead. I stabbed it in the head, and it was only on the ground in the first place because its guts were hanging out and it couldn't get up. It was weak, and weak things die."

Russell turned his head and muttered something. Becca didn't care what he'd said, she just carried on walking. Once the duo made it about fifty metres into the forest, Becca's nose perked up. She lifted up her hand to Russell to stop him, and then asked, "Do you smell something?"

It took a moment for Russell to register any smell, but he slowly nodded and whispered "Smoke."

"We probably shouldn't be standing in the open," Becca realised, gesturing for Russell to climb down the side of the road where the terrain dipped to form a trench of sorts. "If someone's coming, I can still see them without them seeing us," she said, "You try and keep watch for walkers or anything."

The two hid at the side of the road, obscured by plantlife, and waited. Soon enough they heard footsteps, but it sounded like their owners were not the source of the smoke.

"Hey, man, you smell that?" Came one voice; it was a man. Becca recognised the voice, but couldn't place it.

She heard an annoyed sigh come from the same direction. "_Yes_, Nick, I smell it. Smoke, which means someone's _makin'_ smoke, which means we need to get out of here, quick. Look, we're already lost, and we've lost track of her and we still have to the meetin'. We gotta keep movin'."

"Man, my shoulder's killing me." The first man said.

With that, the footsteps picked up and became more rapid before fading away, heading in the direction that one of the signs Becca had seen earlier had pointed to.

"They're gone," Becca announced, "But they didn't make the smoke."

"No, they didn't" came a voice that Becca didn't recognise. "I did."

She turned around and saw a man with a rifle, pointing it at Russell's chest. "I ain't decided if I wanna kill you yet, but I'll be making my mind up shortly."

The man was speaking through a sort of bandana that covered his mouth, and he was wearing a thick jacket; the hood of which was covering most of his face. He had dark skin, and his face was twisted in a poor representation of anger.

"Look, man, we don't want any trouble." Russell panicked.

"And neither do I," the man said. "I been trackin' one of them folks that just walked past here for almost two weeks now and I've been fixin' to get some revenge on one or two of their pals; I just ain't found a good enough opportunity and all I got is a fuckin' empty rifle."

Becca and Russell's eyes widened along with their assailant's. He'd just admitted that he had no ammunition without realising. Instantly he lifted his gun and backed off. "All right," he sighed, "you got me." He sat down on a nearby rock and placed his head in his hands, "Man, this is so fucked."

"So…" Russell muttered, getting up, "We'll be… on our way."

"Whatever," the man grunted. "I ain't after you; I'm after those other guys. I'll only come after you if you kill my friends like they did. But you tell anyone I'm out here and I'll fuck you up."

Russell nodded, and then said, "You might want to stop with the smoke, then."

The man got up and growled, "You kiddin', boy? That smoke is the only thing keepin' the walkers away from me. I smoke up my clothes, walkers can't smell the human on me 'cause the smoke is so strong."

"That's interesting," Becca pondered, resting a finger on her chin.

"It sure is," the man said, "Now fuck off."

Russell and Becca climbed back up onto the path as they rushed away as fast as they could. Once they made it back out into the open, Becca realised that the man had thought it was only her and Russell on the road, not that they had a group of seven. Maybe he'd decided that they had nothing of worth on them or that they were harmless so he wasn't willing to attack.

No matter what, it had been an odd situation, but at least they had determined that the man was hiding in the trees rather than having him attack them later.

Russell huffed, "What're we gonna do? We can't just go into one of the houses with a psycho like that around."

Becca shrugged. If there were more guys like their new 'friend', the group would have to keep their guard up.


	11. A Halfway House

**Day 855 – Morning**

**Vince**

Vince and Miles had made it through the morning fog and had reached one of the few houses that littered the landscape. It was a couple of hundred metres away from the truck, which was now obscured by mist, so it was out of sight for those who weren't deliberately looking for it, but it'd be a pain to get all of the gear up to the building without making several trips.

Miles was looking through one of the windows. "You see anything?" Vince asked as he gripped the handle of the front door.

"Nothing," Miles moaned, "You think you can get in the door?"

"We'll have to see," Vince stated. He twisted the door handle and pushed, but the door wouldn't budge. "Fuck," he growled, "Locked."

"May as well try the back," Miles suggested. The house was quite large, with grand windows and from what Vince could make out, colonial décor inside. The lower half of the building was ensnared in vines which had grown over the two or so years that the world had remained abandoned.

"Who the hell would live out in the open like this, with nothing around?" Miles asked.

"No idea. It's kinda peaceful, though," Vince admitted, "You could almost forget the whole walker thing had never happened."

"We'll never forget." Miles stated bluntly, "Not after what's happened to everyone we know."

"I had a brother once," Vince sighed, "I don't know where he is now, I don't even know if he's alive. I've gotta hope, though. Hope is all we've got anymore."

By now, the duo had reached the back door of the building. Vince tried the handle, but again it was locked. "Fuck," Vince grimaced. He noticed the door had a few small windows, so he turned to Miles and said, "Get me a rock or something."

Miles lifted a brick from the ground and handed it to Vince, who slammed it into the bottom-left window on the door. He reached in, fiddling with the lock but cut his hand on some stray glass. Pulling his arm from the hole he'd made, he swore profusely and turned around to see another figure staring at him and Miles.

"Hi, there… you folks look like you could use a hand or two! What's got y'all so stressed?"

The figure was a man, middle aged and balding, with a small beard. "You smashin' a hole in my window? Don't make me sic Shepherd here on y'all." He gestured to his left hand, which Vince noticed was holding a lead - linked to a dog that stood at the man's feet.

"You bandits?" The man continued, "You gon' shoot me in the face and take all my stuff?"

Vince shook his head. "Not bandits… we're just looking for somewhere safe from the walkers."

"Hmph, 'walkers', huh? That the name you give 'em? I just call 'em dead, 'cause that's what they are. Anyways, it just the two of you, or are there more of you hidin' in the bushes?"

Vince and Miles looked at each other. They'd have to play this right in case the man was a nutjob. "There's a lot of us," Vince said, "If we're not back later they'll come looking."

"Well, later's a long time away," the man said, "Ya'll are welcome to come in and have some food if you're hungry. It ain't much, but it's all I got." He walked between Vince and the door and withdrew a key. As he opened the door he made a passing remark about having to 'get that window fixed' as he led the duo inside. Vince gently put his hands in his pockets, resting his right hand gently on the knife wrapped in cloth he kept in there in case things went sour.

The man let his dog off its leash, and it instantly darted for some bowls of food that had been left out for it. "Now, I don't have much," the man said, "I've only been here a couple months and I didn't go out lookin' for the neighbours, but I guess they found me first," he offered out his hand, which Vince shook. "Name's Marshall." The stranger said.

"I'm Vince, and this is Miles," Vince replied.

"Nice to meetcha both," Marshall said, "If you wanna invite some of your pals up then I'll try cookin' somethin' for the occasion and you can find yourself somewhere to sleep."

"Sure…" Vince hesitated, "We'll, uh, get on that."

"If y'all go lookin' for rooms while I'm cookin', then stay away from the room on the left, that's mine."

Vince nodded as the man retreated into the kitchen. Vince and Miles started towards the front door, which they could unlock from inside, and they caught a glance of the man's cooking space. He had some form of barbeque in the centre of the room, with the table at one end. "Man, that thing's gonna stink the house out," Vince remarked under his breath.

With that, he and Miles left the building and began the long walk through the morning mist back down to the group. "Do you trust him?" Miles asked, as soon as they were out of earshot.

"He seems nice enough, just a bit qwerky." Vince replied.

"I don't trust him. There's something not right about him. He's nice, but he seems too nice."

"Come on, you're just on edge." Vince groaned, "We probably won't get another chance like this."

Miles shrugged, "I can see about five houses right now; I doubt any of those have weird old men in them who are willing to offer eight…" He paused and sighed, "_Seven_ people access to his supplies in the fucking apocalypse."

Vince paused for a second. "Yeah, there is something weird about that, but what can he do? We're all armed and we outnumber him. Figuratively speaking, if he gets one of us alone, the rest of us would notice they've gone missing."

"I guess," Miles muttered, "Maybe he'll just want our help keeping the place safe or something. Aid for protection, or something like that."

"We'll probably have to keep our eye on him, anyway," Vince said, "After all, he is a stranger."

The duo broke into a jog as the truck came into view. Becca and Russell were standing at the back end, Becca kicking up the gravel path while Russell tentatively hopped on his good leg.

"How'd it go?" Russell asked. "Run into any trouble?"

"Not what you'd expect," Vince said, "We met a living guy."

Becca and Russell quickly exchanged glances. "What?" Miles asked, "Why do you both look so scared?"

"Um… well, uh…" Becca stuttered, scratching the back of her head.

"We went looking around," Russell blurted, "We met a guy. Over in that direction." He pointed to the end of the road. "Do you think it was the same guy?"

"How long ago was it?" Vince pressed, not willing to argue about why an injured man and a child shouldn't have gone 'exploring.'

"About ten minutes or so." Becca answered.

"Did he have a dog?" Miles asked.

"A dog? No way," Russell smirked, "But he reeked of smoke. Said it kept the walkers away 'cause they couldn't smell the 'human' on him."

"Our guy didn't smell of smoke," Miles pondered, "But maybe the two are related. They can't be in the same area without knowing they're both around."

"Shit," Vince said, "Maybe it's a set up. This guy looks all vulnerable and lets us into his house, he lets his pals in and they kill us in our sleep."

"Then what do we do?" Russell asked, afraid.

Vince scratched his chin. "We play along. We'll probably figure out if he's up to something or not."

"Sounds like a plan." Miles grimaced, "We'd better start moving our stuff up into his house, but let's not unpack it until we know for sure it's a good deal. It's better to keep all the food and weapons in backpacks so that if we need to get out of there quickly we can take as much as possible."

Vince nodded, "Let's get everyone together; I think we've got a plan."


	12. Home From Home

**Day 855 – Evening**

**Wyatt**

The group of seven were standing by the truck, with backpacks on their backs and more in their hands. Vince had told the group that a man was offering them sanctuary and that it seemed like bandits were in the area so they'd be safer in the house.

Wyatt wasn't too sure about sharing a living space with a complete stranger, but compared to the out-of-gas truck and the potential threat of bandits, it was the better option.

"Got everything?" Vince asked, pacing past the group. "I don't want to leave anything behind that bandits can find; we don't want them better equipped than they already are."

"We've split the guns and food between us," Miles stated, "Just on the off-chance that something happens and we get split up."

Vince nodded and declared that they should make their way uphill. He started walking, followed by Miles, Shel and Becca, with Russell bringing up the rear. Wyatt hesitated, before turning to look at the child that stood at his side. They shared an awkward glance, and then began to slowly follow the group.

"How you holding up?" Wyatt asked gently.

"I'm okay," Annie responded, "Where's the lady from before?"

Wyatt closed his eyes; he knew he'd have to explain Laura's demise at some point. "She… didn't make it. The walkers got her."

"Oh." Annie looked the ground.

"Yeah…" Wyatt sighed. "But look, man, this man is letting us into his house, so we'll finally all be able to sleep in beds again. That's good, right?"

"I can't remember the last time I slept in a bed. At home, I think."

Wyatt exhaled in relief. Annie had taken the news about Laura better than expected, and she seemed somewhat content with their current situation. Wyatt had to wonder whether her parents had been at the settlement, and if not, who _had_ been looking after her.

Over the course of the day the mist had faded and the group had managed to get a decent look at the environment. A city was visible in the distance, but not much else was there to be seen aside from the multitude of fields and the occasional house scattered on the landscape.

Their host's abode was surrounded by tall trees, and had a wholly serene vibe about it. The group hadn't seen a single walker all day, so maybe they wouldn't have to worry about herds for a long time, just a one-off walking corpse every few days.

The rest of the group were carefully examining their surroundings as they gradually made the trek up the hill, presumably looking for walkers or bandits. Vince was at the front, carrying Wyatt's rifle, while Miles had his Glock as he always did.

The group slowly converged on the house, and one of them knocked on the front door. After a few seconds, it was opened by a middle-aged man with thinning hair, a slight beard, and a red shirt. He beckoned them in, and closed the door behind them, telling them to go to the kitchen so that they could eat.

"I'm not fussed about formalities or nuthin'." The man said, "There ain't enough chairs for everybody, some of you are gonna have to stand up and eat."

It looked like he'd barbequed some sort of deer. Wyatt had never eaten deer and it looked a bit weird, but after the months of dry food at the settlement, he relished the chance of having something that had been cooked.

There were four chairs around the table, but the group hesitated to sit down. Vince recommended that Becca and Annie sat down, and were then followed by Russell and Shel; their host, Marshall, recommended that the injured man sit down first, and that Shel sat because it was 'chivalrous'. He cut the meat scrappily and handed plates around. Miles, who had been lingering by the door, lifted his hand to reject the food, pardoning himself with the excuse "I'm… uh… _vegetarian_."

Marshall shrugged, "More for me, then," and then looked at the rest of the group. "Dig in, everyone!" He declared. The group murmured in agreement, and then began to eat.

**Day 855 – Night**

"You can sleep up here." Marshall said, as the group followed him up the staircase. "I got two free rooms, so you can separate yourselves however you want."

Annie tugged on Wyatt's sleeve. "I want to see the dog again," she asked, "please, Wyatt."

Wyatt grinned gently and then told her, "He's probably more tired than we are, dude. You can see him again tomorrow."

"Shepherd was always good with kids," Marshall said, leaning against the door of his own room. "I'll wait till you're all tucked in and then I'll stay on watch; there's bandits around these parts." Becca and Russell avoided his gaze as he spoke.

"How are we gonna do this," Vince asked, "Guys in one room, girls in the other?"

"Seems like the quickest way to do it." Shel agreed, gesturing for Becca and Annie to follow her into the furthest room. Wyatt, Vince, Russell and Miles walked into the other, Marshall ignoring them. They shut the door and then found out that there was only one bed.

"Russell, you take it," Miles muttered as he elected to sit against the wall, drawing his legs in and then resting his elbows on his knees. Wyatt dropped a bedroll he'd been carrying and unravelled it, while Vince did the same. He lay down, taking his glasses off as he did so. "Man, I'm tired," he remarked. "Been driving all night and I haven't had any sleep."

Miles smirked, "At least you didn't spent all night staring into space, thinking that someone's death was your own fault."

"You really a vegetarian, man?" Wyatt asked, changing the subject.

"Fuck no," Miles admitted, "I just don't know where that food had been. If I'd seen that 'deer' get shot then I would've eaten it. I don't trust this Marshall guy just yet."

Wyatt shrugged. "Suit yourself, dude."

"I'm just glad we have somewhere to sleep," Vince chimed in. "Spending the night on the ground in the homestead, and then sleeping sitting up in a moving truck? I'm just glad I can say I actually slept in a bedroom for once."

"I'm gonna go have look in those woods in the morning," Miles said, "See if there really are bandits around, rather than just one."

"Sounds like a plan," Vince nodded. "At least one of us needs to stick around and keep their eye on Marshall, though. If we've decided we're not gonna fully trust him then we have to go the whole way with it, if you see what I mean."

Miles nodded, and then yawned. "All right, we got a plan… wait a second. If we all go to sleep, what's to stop the guy coming in here and stabbing us in our sleep?"

"I guess you're right," Vince said. "I guess you and Wyatt need the most sleep, so I'll stay up and keep an eye out for anything."

With that, the group fell silent. It seemed like Russell was already asleep. Wyatt leaned back on his pillow and felt the embrace of sleep grip him. As he flitted in and out of consciousness, he heard faint thumping noises in the distance.

_Ah, well,_ Wyatt thought. _It's probably nothing worth worrying about…_


	13. Beg To Differ

**Day 862 – Midday**

**Russell**

It had been a few days since the group had first settled in at Marshall's place. Most of the group were content living there, but Vince, Miles and Becca retained their scepticism, one of them making sure to stay up each night on watch.

Russell was currently walking the daily patrol with Vince, checking for walkers or bandits in the vicinity. They'd been silent for most of the walk, only making passing comments about their surroundings, but Russell decided he needed to discuss something with Vince.

"Hey, man, do you remember Bonnie?" he asked.

"Course I remember Bonnie." Vince nodded, "We spent like, a whole year with her, man."

"Do you think she made it out? Of the settlement, I mean."

"Probably… either that or she was on the roof, I don't know. I'm surprised she wasn't with Carver, to be honest. Carver's favourite."

"Pssh, yeah," Russell agree, disheartened. "I kinda miss Bonnie."

"We all do, man." Vince sighed.

The two made their way past a greenhouse that stood about fifty metres behind Marshall's house, surrounded by trees, as they saw the house owner himself mucking around in the grass.

"What're you doin?" Vince asked, interested.

Marshall drew himself up to his full height, resting his weight on a shovel. "There ain't much deer around, considerin' it's winter and all," he said, "Thought I'd plant some vegetables."

"Well, this is the completely wrong time to do it." Vince smirked, "You've got to do that in the spring, as far as I can tell, then harvest it in the fall."

"Gawd dangit." Marshall cursed. "How are we gon' get food now?"

Vince shrugged as he and Russell made their way back up to the house. Russell looked up at the windows, and saw a dark figure pass by one of them. Assuming it was just an illusion he thought nothing of it and continued on into the house.

Wyatt, Shel and Miles were sat on the sofas in the living room, while Becca had planted herself on the coffee table in the centre. Annie was sitting in the corner furiously petting Marshall's dog, Shepherd.

"Anything out there?" Miles asked bluntly.

"Nothin'" Vince replied. The exchange had become common over the last week or so; they had not seen a large group of walkers in the entire time they'd spent at the house, only the occasional one or two. Vince laid down the machete he'd been carrying while Russell put down Wyatt's rifle. Shel stood up to let Russell sit, as his leg wasn't fully healed.

"Anyone else heard it?" Miles blurted.

"Heard what?" Shel asked, but a few others in the room nodded.

"The knocking noise," Wyatt explained. "I hear it in the night, sometimes in the day. Can't be sure, but it sounds like it's coming from upstairs…"

With that, the group slowly looked up, except for Annie, who was oblivious to the conversation.

"…Probably faulty plumbing or something." Wyatt decided. Miles leaned forward in his seat and wiped his eyes with his hands. "That ain't plumbing. We've gotta go up there and…"

Miles was interrupted by Marshall, who strode into the room, treading mud everywhere. "Somethin' on your mind, son? Aw, now look at that. Someone's gon' have to clean that up. Tell you what, I'll clean up this mess then I'll put some dinner on."

"Great." Miles moaned. Marshall didn't catch the sarcasm. "I'm going to bed."

"In the middle of the day?" Marshall asked, "You ill or somethin', boy?"

"Something like that." Miles replied cryptically. He pushed past his host, heading upstairs, followed by Wyatt. Russell pushed himself onto his feet and followed them, whispering "Keep an eye on him" out of the corner of his mouth.

He made his way into the bedroom he'd been sleeping in, where Miles and Wyatt had begun a hushed argument. "Wyatt, something's going on. You saw how he interrupted just as I suggested we find out whatever this noise is."

"Dude, don't blow this! This place is all we have! Who knows if anyone else made it out? They'll probably come after us for stealing all that shit in the stockroom! I'd prefer to have a place we can defend rather than be caught in the middle of the road and get fucking killed!"

"This is fucking bullshit," Miles hissed, "We can't stay here. Something's going on. I don't know what, but I know it's something. I'm gonna find out, then we're out of here."

"For fuck's sake, Miles!" Wyatt growled, "We've got plenty of food here, don't fuck this up!"

"We don't know how long our food is gonna last, what do we do when it runs out?"

"That food is gonna last us for ages, and when it's gone, we find more. Marshall's been doing fine with that – we can't just go scavenging, we've got kids, man!"

Miles took a step forward, and hushed his tone further. "You know, Wyatt… kids are only good for one thing in this world – getting you killed. Either you die for her, or she dies because you didn't get it right."

Russell had had enough. "Fucking hell, shut up, both of you! What the hell even started this?"

Miles and Wyatt stepped away from each other, and the latter spoke in a more reserved tone. "This place seems fine to me, but Miles is bent on fucking things up."

"Something's going on here." Miles disagreed, "and I don't trust this Marshall guy. We need to find out what's going on here before we all end up dead."

"Look…" Russell sighed, "I don't know what to _do_ here. We can't go snooping around while Marshall's around, but on the other hand I don't trust this place anymore either."

"Then we wait." Miles declared. "We wait until Marshall's out of the house. Fuck, we send him on patrol tomorrow or something; say he's the only one who hasn't been yet and that it's his turn. Then we go looking around and see what we can find."

Wyatt groaned. "I can't believe we're gonna fuck this up for ourselves, man."

"What's the other option? Sit in this house and wait for whatever it is to find _us_?"

Wyatt shrugged. "You can look around, but I'm not having any part in this."

Miles sat down on his bedroll, then lay down and crossed his arms. "You'll thank me when you're not dead. Now I'm fuckin' tired. Been up all night, so I'm going to sleep now, and when Marshall's gone in the morning, we're looking for the source of that noise."


	14. Something To Hide

**Day 863 - Evening**

**Shel**

It was time.

The group had managed to persuade Marshall to take Shepherd on the evening patrol while they stayed at the house. It had been relatively simple as Marshall seemed like a fair man; he accepted that it was his turn as he hadn't done the perimeter walk once yet, but oddly enough he'd elected to take a rifle with him rather than a pistol.

Vince, Wyatt, Shel, Becca, Russell and Annie lingered in the living room while Miles fiddled around, loading his Glock and filling their backpacks.

"Are you serious about this?" Shel asked.

"Deadly serious," Miles answered. "I'm gonna look around, find out what's making this guy act so weird, then I'm out of here. I suggest you all follow me, because I don't know how he's gonna react when we find out."

The group followed him up the stairs as he racked the slide of his Glock. "Someone needs to keep watch." He stated. Without saying anything, Wyatt put his hand on Annie's back and guided her downstairs so that they could check to see if Marshall was coming back, but presumably so that she also wouldn't have to witness whatever Marshall was hiding.

"Tell me if you can hear anything." Miles asked. Immediately the group fell silent, but all they could hear were the footsteps of Wyatt and Annie downstairs.

Shel looked around the landing. There were two doors on the left, and two on the right. The closest on the right was where the men had been sleeping, and the furthest on the same side was where she, Becca and Annie had been sleeping. The room closest to her on the left was Marshall's bedroom, but the furthest away was a mystery to her.

"What are we looking for?" She asked.

"There's a thumping noise…" Miles answered, "It shows up irregularly, doesn't last long. Usually at night which is why we're doing this now rather than in the morning."

"I can't hear anything." Russell stated.

"It's not happening now." Miles hissed, "But it'll come up, you'll see."

"Time's ticking," Vince said. "Marshall will be back in about five minutes, we should wait for the noise, find out where it's coming from and deal with it tomorrow."

"We're doing this now, or we never will." Miles grimaced.

A shout came from below. "Guys?!" Wyatt sounded nervous.

"Shit!" Miles growled. "What is it? Is Marshall back?" he yelled in reply.

"No!" Wyatt was panicking. "Walkers, quite a few, about ten or more, looks like they're passing through."

"What the fuck?" Vince asked. "What the hell brought them out of their holes?"

"No fucking clue." Miles grimaced. "Walkers don't have a fucking schedule. We need to hurry. Now, come on, we can't waste time waiting for that…"

Thump.

Thump.

Shel, Becca, Russell, Vince and Miles looked at each other, paused.

Thump.

"Where's it coming from?" Vince asked.

"No idea." Shel replied.

"Fuck." Vince cursed.

Miles started moving down the hallway, and kicked in the door the furthest on the left. Still the noise came.

Miles was frozen.

"What is it? Vince asked, moving up next to him."

"It's… just a cupboard." Miles sighed.

"But… the noise… I still hear it." Becca admitted.

Vince moved back down the hallway, "Yeah, it's coming from further down here. It's in Marshall's room."

"Well, open the door, then." Shel suggested.

Vince gripped the door handle, twisted and pushed, but the door wouldn't budge. "Locked." He said. "Look, we've got enough time, I'm gonna rush downstairs and find the key."

As Vince ran down the stairs, Miles attempted to jimmy the door and push against it with his full strength. Russell offered to help Vince look for a key, and then limped slowly down the stairs.

A crash of thunder was heard. Shel reached for a window and saw that it was raining outside. "Ugh," she groaned, "We can't be doing this now. I'm not leaving while there are walkers outside and it's raining."

Miles didn't respond. He kept kicking the door, attempting to break it open, to no avail. He grunted in anger, pure frustration visible on his face.

Vince appeared at the top of the stairs, looking panicked. "No key…" he huffed, "…Marshall probably has it."

"Shiiiiiiit!" Miles yelled, pounding the door. "I need to fucking know what's behind here!"

Shel put a hand on Miles' shoulder and harshly tugged him back. "Calm down." She told him. Vince slid in between Miles and the door, and then lifted his foot to kick the door open. While Miles had been aiming his attacks at the hinges of the door, Vince aimed for the lock. Instantly the door swung open.

"How'd you know to do that?" Shel asked.

"I've… broken into someone's place before." Vince admitted shamefully.

The four poured into Marshall's bedroom, and slowed up as they witnessed the source of the noise.

Shel's eyes widened at what she saw, and Becca backed out of the room. Vince's shoulders sagged as he stumbled forward.

"Oh, god." Miles groaned, falling to his knees. "Oh fucking god, no."

…

…

Thump.


	15. In The Rain

**Caution: ****things get pretty dark towards the end of this Chapter. Also it's 4x the length of a regular chapter. All POVs occur somewhat simultaneously from a certain point in the first POV.**

**Day 863 - Evening**

**Vince**

It was a child, hanging by its neck which was wrapped in a noose.

It was dead, that much was clear. Vince shuddered in disgust as he looked at it.

It didn't have hands or feet. The banging noise had been the backs of its legs hitting the wall as it struggled to move, a puddle of thick blood stained into the carpet. It didn't have teeth, either. Or even eyes.

Miles threw up on the ground. "Has he been..? Oh… god. This is fucking sick… oh, god."

It felt like they'd been there forever. Vince slumped against the door, Miles kneeling on the ground, staring at the poor kid. Shel was looking away, facing the ground; Becca was outside the room, sitting against the wall with her head in her hands.

The four were snapped out of their trance by Wyatt. "Guys! Marshall's coming, and walkers are all over the place!"

Shel slowly took steps out of the room, grabbing Becca's elbow to lift her onto her feet. Vince pulled Miles back by his shoulder, but the man gently resisted.

"Vince… we can't just leave it… it's best to put it out of its misery." He lifted his Glock. Vince looked at him and asked, "You sure?"

"I'm sure. I couldn't save Laura, but I can save this kid from whatever Marshall's been doing to it."

Vince, Shel and Becca slowly stepped down the stairs. Vince slowly turned his head and saw Miles draw himself up to his full height, and aim his gun at the kid's forehead.

Wyatt was already walking towards the three, and threw backpacks into their hands. "We're leaving. I heard doors smashing and stuff, and Marshall isn't going to be happy. He's taking his sweet time out there, dudes, but he won't be outside for much longer."

A gunshot rang through the air.

"That isn't going to help." Wyatt remarked. He gripped Annie's wrist and opened the front door of the house. "We've gotta go."

"Where?" Russell asked, striding into the hall. "It's rainin' out there and there's nowhere for us to go."

"Fuckin'… follow the road, man, I don't know."

Wyatt exited the house, expecting the rest to follow. Vince put on the backpack he'd been issued and stepped out with them, followed by Shel, Becca and Russell.

"Hold on, where's Miles?" Wyatt asked.

Vince turned and stepped back into the hallway, but Marshall appeared at the other end, wielding his rifle. His dog, Shepherd, was nowhere to be seen.

"What the hell's goin' on?" The middle aged man asked with a panicked look on his face. Vince didn't answer as Marshall charged down the hallway and headed upstairs. Vince ran out of the door and told the others, "He knows, we have to go, now!"

As Marshall yelled in anger up above, the group looked on at the walkers that roamed the hills down below.

"I'd rather take on the walkers than that madman." Russell said.

The group began to break into a run as footsteps hammered down the stairs inside. They'd made it barely twenty metres before Marshall appeared in the doorway, pumping his rifle, yelling at the top of his voice and spitting furiously.

"WHO FUCKING DID IT?!" He screamed. "YOU'RE ALL FUCKING DEAD!"

Wyatt pointed to his left. "Into the trees!" He yelled, gesturing for them to run in that direction.

The walkers heard the cries and turned, slowly walking towards the sprinting group as Marshall chased them, screaming threats and abuse all the way. Wyatt slowed down, Annie's hand in his, and swept the child up, throwing her over his shoulder. Vince withdrew his knife and slashed at the walkers that leaned towards him, forcing them back.

The group crashed through the trees, but didn't realise that there was a steep drop beyond them. Vince burst through masses of bushes and sticks as he tumbled through the dirt, smacking his head on a boulder and ultimately crashing into a puddle that had formed at the bottom of the ditch.

Wearily, he lifted his head as his vision faded multiple times in rapid succession. He ached all over but had to get up as Marshall's screaming crept closer. He heard the mixed moans of the living and the dead; the former in pain after their descent into the ditch, the latter gurgling as they always did.

It was too dangerous for him to go looking for them, so instead he yelled "Get to the road!" to direct them all to one place. Hopefully if they made it out alive they'd be able to follow the road and find each other.

Vince tried to run, but ended up with a stagger. He'd knocked his head badly and he felt blood or rain trickle down his forehead; in the dark he couldn't be sure of which. He lifted his hand over his shoulder to make sure his machete was safely in his pack, and then continued onwards, using the trees to hold his weight.

"YOU'RE ALL FUCKING DEAD! YOU HEAR ME?!" Marshall's yelling was moving off to the east now, away from Vince. But considering he'd been the furthest to the west when they'd fallen down the hill, it seemed as if Marshall was headed towards the others, and Vince couldn't have that. Slowly but surely, he turned to the right and began pacing slowly through the trees.

He staggered and stumbled, slicing weakly at walkers that came his way, as blood poured down his face from the many cuts he'd sustained during his tumble through the thorny bushes and sticks. He blinked repeatedly, feeling drowsy, as he fell, his back hitting a tree, taking a long, wavering breath.

He sat in the mud, catching his breath, his body threatening to shut down. He wiped his brow with the back of his hand and wiped his eyes in a desperate attempt to wake up. The walkers were ignoring him for now, heading in the direction of rifle blasts to the east. Vince couldn't give up. He pushed himself painfully to his feet and continued his trek, rain hitting his face all the while. He didn't know what he was actually going to do once he made it to wherever he was going, but he was sure he'd figure it out.

"_I'm, uh… I'm gonna do this,"_ he thought. "_I've got to get there. I… I have to."_

His foot slipped in the mud beneath him and he collapsed onto one knee. He stabbed the ground with his machete and tried to use it to lever himself back onto his feet. It was no use.

"_Gotta get there…"_ his mind told him, _"Gotta… gotta save them."_

He collapsed onto all fours, weakly willing himself to get back up, but collapsed further, onto his forearms and elbows.

Vince looked up and saw nothing but trees surrounding him. No people to help, no rifle wielding maniac.

"_Gotta… gotta…"_ His thoughts failed him as his body shuddered and fell limp, his face hitting the mud. His eyes fluttered momentarily, and then closed.

* * *

**Day 863 - Evening**

**Wyatt**

Wyatt winced in pain as he hit the ground. He'd briefly seen Vince flash past him to his left, but it looked like he'd drawn the short straw. Wyatt and Annie had a clear fall into the dirt, while Vince seemed to have fallen down a slope littered with rocks and bushes.

As he'd fallen, Wyatt twisted in the air to use his body as a shield for Annie, holding her in front of him as his back hit the dirt. Winded, Wyatt struggled to get up as Annie rolled off of him, sniffing. He raised a hand to his face, sensing that something was missing, and realised his glasses were gone. Cursing under his breath as he stood up, he was relieved by a tap on his arm which caused him to turn slightly and notice that Annie had found his glasses. Taking them from her, he smiled gently at her, but his head whipped round at the sound of yelling.

"COME OUT AND FACE ME LIKE MEN!"

Wyatt grabbed Annie's hand and pulled her through the woods, panting as he did so. In the distance, to his left, he heard Vince's voice cry "Get to the road!"

He instantly knew what to do. It was a vague meeting place, and they wouldn't all show up at the same point in the road, but they'd be able to find each other much easier than in the woods. Not wanting to risk letting Marshall know where they were, Wyatt didn't call out to Vince and didn't try to search for him, even though he was nearby; he had been told to head for the road, and not search for everyone else. In this situation, Wyatt decided he'd do better to do as he was told. Vince had already saved his life once, a long time ago, back when they'd first met. Wyatt was tempted to return the favour now, but he had to look out for Annie. He turned to the seven-year-old that stood beside him with a worried look on her face, and kneeled down.

"We need to run," he said, "Or that man will get us. He's bad."

Annie nodded slowly, "I'm scared. What if he gets us?"

Wyatt did a quick check for walkers, and then rested his hand on her shoulder. "Remember when we first met? I saved you from those lurkers, didn't I?" Annie nodded again as he continued, "What's one guy compared to all those lurkers, dude? Come on, we can get out of this just like we did before, because that's what we do. We survive."

Annie nodded and smiled ever so slightly, looking at the ground. Wyatt picked her up and she put her arms around his neck for stability. "Now come on," he said, "We've got places to go and people to see, man."

With that, he began to sprint through the trees, the harsh gurgling and choking of nearby walkers scaring him, but also helping him to focus and stay on his guard as he kept looking dead ahead, waiting to break out of the trees and find the road. He heard yelling coming from behind him, along with several rifle blasts but noticed that Marshall was moving further east than he was. "YOU'RE ALL FUCKING DEAD! YOU HEAR ME?!"

"He's… he's not chasing us." He panted, not speaking to Annie, but just making a general remark.

"Are we safe?" Annie asked.

"No… not yet. Don't worry though, dude. We're gonna get back onto the road and maybe we'll find the truck and hole up in there until the others find us, okay?" Wyatt gasped, racking his brains for a good plan.

Wyatt picked up the pace, turned slightly, and began heading in the general direction of the road. With any luck, they'd find it and be able to trace it back to the truck.

Wyatt had never had much luck, though.

* * *

**Day 863 - Evening**

**Russell**

The first thing Russell felt as he hit the ground was a sharp pain in his still healing leg. Not realising there was a steep drop just past the trees he had fallen straight down and landed awkwardly, the same way he'd procured his first leg injury almost a week ago.

Stumbling onto his feet, Russell tried to walk forwards, but his leg gave out on him. It was worse than ever before and burned like hell, so much so that his eyes streamed in pain. Reaching up, Russell managed to grasp a tree that he could use for support as he stood on one leg and raised his injured one. Searching around, he looked up and saw that he'd dropped from a wall that was maybe eight feet high, and that he'd landed on packed dirt. Marshall was presumably still running around the fields up above with the knowledge that there was a drop beyond the trees, but it wouldn't be long before he found a way down.

With no option to run due to his leg, Russell decided that he'd need to hide. It was light enough for Marshall to spot him in the open, but dark enough that he might not be spotted if he was in a good enough place.

Russell headed back to the stone wall he'd dropped from and leaned against it, catching his breath. Raising his bad leg, he followed the wall east and saw an ideal hiding place; an alcove below a tree, the roots of which acted sort of like bars. If Russell could get below it, the roots would help defend against any walkers that came his way as they wouldn't be able to reach him.

Squeezing into the alcove, Russell barely had time to pull his legs into the hiding spot before Marshall's feet dropped off of the wall. Russell held his breath as the middle aged man paced around, grunting quietly. "I saw ya come down here, get out here, you piece of shit."

Marshall paused, drew in a deep breath and screamed at the top of his voice, "COME OUT AND FACE ME LIKE MEN!"

Russell was too afraid to breathe. He slowly pulled his backpack off as Marshall paced around outside the alcove, huffing heavily. Reaching into his pack, Russell searched slowly to minimise the noise he would make before finding what he was looking for; a pistol.

He raised the gun and pointed it at Marshall's turned back. The man still hadn't noticed him. He could do this.

No… he couldn't.

Russell didn't want to take the chance. If he missed, Marshall would find him and he'd receive a rifle blast to the head. As he paused, he heard a cry in the distance. "Get to the road!"

"_Vince_." Russell thought. _"He's giving us directions, we can meet up."_

Marshall grunted, swore under his breath, and smirked. Russell was terrified by the man now.

"_What if he gets to the road first and picks them all off?"_

Marshall broke into a sprint and moved away, further into the trees. Once he knew he was gone, Russell exhaled heavily. _He_ was safe, but what about the others? And how would he get to the road with a damaged leg?

Russell groaned. He was screwed, and no one could help him. He wished he'd never taken that ride from Nate and that he'd just ran into the woods, then maybe he would've actually made it to Statesboro and his family. Then he wouldn't be hiding with a possibly broken from a nutjob with a rifle in the woods.

He pulled up his pant leg. His leg was bloody and, from what he could tell by the lighting, it was horribly bruised. He rooted through his pack for some sort of bandage and found a towel. He wrapped it around his leg and reached into his pack again, withdrawing some string with which he tried to secure the towel. He pulled down his pant leg over it to hold the makeshift bandage together. He sighed, sat back in his hiding spot, and waited.

"YOU'RE ALL FUCKING DEAD! YOU HEAR ME?!" The voice was distant now, closer to where Russell assumed the road was. It was followed by gunfire, which ceased soon after.

Russell remained in his hole. It was eerily quiet; all he could hear was the rain now. At least his little cave wasn't wet, and it was shielded from the elements. Tipping his head back, he puffed. He'd try walking again in the morning, but for now he'd bide his time. When he'd first seen the forest it looked huge, so there was a small chance he'd run into Marshall again before he made it to the road. Maybe he'd be able to stagger to the truck and…

Russell stopped. Something in the air had changed. He could feel warmth amid the pouring rain. He saw light out of the corner of his eye, and he smelled something that he hadn't smelled in quite a while… except for Marshall's cooking of course, though that didn't make any sense.

A figure appeared in his peripheral vision, outside the alcove. They were about ten feet away, where Marshall had been about half an hour earlier, and they held a primitive torch which used fire as a source of light. The person kneeled down – it was clear they were not a walker, and whistled, as if whistling for a dog.

"Come on out, boy. I know you're here. I feel you. I can see your blood on these leaves."

The figure took a step closer to Russell's alcove.

"You've shoulda been more careful; your blood's headed this way. Where you hidin'?"

A pause.

"I know where you are_. _You're under that tree."

* * *

**Day 863 - Evening**

**Becca**

Becca hit the ground just before Shel. They landed in a mass of wet mud, Becca managing to land on her feet as dirt splattered up her pants while Shel stumbled and ended up with one hand in the muck too.

"Where's everyone else?" Becca asked, panicked.

"I don't know," Shel gasped, "But we have to get away before Marshall finds us."

As the two sisters helped each other out of the mud, they heard a thump to their left. "Was that someone falling?" Becca whispered.

"We all fell at the same time, so that must be…" Shel's eyes widened. "Shit, it's him. We need to get out of here."

Their feet padded over the soft dirt as they ran through the trees and kicked up dry leaves with their feet, heading east, keeping the top of the trench to their right. They heard some muttering, and then Marshall screamed "COME OUT AND FACE ME LIKE MEN!"

It was dangerously close to them, and Shel gestured for Becca to stop moving in case the noise of their feet alerted their foe. With no decent hiding spots, they hid behind the thickest tree they could find. Becca peeked out from behind and saw Marshall pacing around in a clearing, breathing heavily. Not long after, she heard Vince yell "Get to the road!" coming from directly behind her. Unfortunately for her, Marshall's head snapped round to stare at the source of the noise, noticing her.

Marshall said something under his breath, smirked, and then started walking towards her. She grabbed Shel's sleeve and ran, pulling her away as Marshall broke into a sprint.

Becca didn't look behind her as she and her sister ran through the woods with Marshall in tow. He was screaming indecencies at them, firing off blasts from his rifle. "YOU'RE ALL FUCKING DEAD! YOU HEAR ME?!"

Becca's jacket was caught on a branch as her face was whipped by twigs, opening a gash across her cheek. One stick hit her in the eye, which began to stream as she felt dirt or dust grains under her eyelid.

As her eye fluttered in pain, Shel pulled her forwards, dragging her feet across the ground as she desperately tried to dodge rifle blasts and rub her eye simultaneously. Realising her attempts to get the grit out of her eye were futile, Becca held her eye closed and forced Shel's hand off of her so she could run freely. With her vision impaired, she could barely see ahead of her, shoving anything that looked vaguely walker-like away with both hands and all her might.

"We're going to the road, right?" She asked her sister, her voice wavering with fear.

She didn't get a response. She looked to her right. Shel wasn't there.

She looked behind her and saw that Marshall was still in pursuit. It looked like she and Shel had been split up; there hadn't been a rifle blast in the last ten seconds so Shel hadn't been taken down.

Neglecting to look ahead, Becca tripped and stumbled, giving Marshall the edge he needed to catch up. He grabbed her hood and threw her forwards as she noticed that she'd passed beyond the trees at some point.

The heels of her hands were sliced open by the cold, wet gravel as she fell to the ground, but she had no time to complain as Marshall flipped her onto her back and pinned her down by the neck.

Becca viciously tried to claw at his face but the man didn't seem to feel it. Quick gasps of air burst from her mouth as his grip closed around her throat and he spoke calmly.

"Jus' calm down. It'll all be over soon." He mumbled, "I need a replacement for my room considerin' your friend killed the last one. You'll do fine… I was lookin' to get the younger kid but you've got more meat on you."

Becca cried out as she tried to push him off, but he was a middle-aged man and she was a fifteen year old girl. Marshall pushed down on her throat to stifle the noises. "Don't cry out, you'll get your friends over here and they won't be able to join in. I don't have nooses for you all, and I don't particularly like the older folk."

She was starting to suffocate now; it wouldn't be long before she blacked out. She had to do something, and quick… there was nothing to grab, nothing to use as a weapon, and she had limited movement due to the man that currently sat on her chest.

_Where was Shel? Or Vince? Or Miles? Or Russell?_

"Fuck… you…" she whimpered. "Just… fuck… you."

Marshall smiled, and then lowered his head so that it was mere centimetres from hers. "Don't worry," he chuckled, "you will."

Becca was too scared to retort. Usually she would've come up with a witty remark or _something_, but she was so fucking done for right now she couldn't even think straight. Her eye was having some sort of spasm, her cheek was slit open and she was soon to become one in a list of victims of a dead kid fucker.

No rocks, no sticks, no nothing. The harsh reality of life in the apocalypse.

"_I'm gonna die._

_Oh god I'm gonna die._

_Not like this."_

Becca heard a crash to her left. Marshall did too, because his head turned in shock.

"BECCA!" She heard the cry of her sister, and then everything happened in slow motion.

Shel ran towards her, no weapons in her hands, as Marshall turned and released his grip on Becca, sitting up as he twisted to face his attacker.

His left arm rose, wielding his rifle. He fired.

Shel was thrown backwards by the blast as it hit her square in the chest. Becca screamed out in anguish as her sister collapsed to the floor, then looked up at Marshall. He was still looking onwards at his target. As she lay on the ground, her arms moved without her wanting them to, grabbing Marshall's weapon and wrenching it from his grip. She twisted it, pointed the barrel at his torso, put her finger on the trigger and fired.

Marshall's stomach exploded in a spray of blood and bone splinters. The man lost all of his strength and collapsed sideways, still alive, but dying rapidly. Becca pulled herself out from under his legs and dropped his rifle. As his blood spilled around her boots, she walked over to the gravel beside his head.

"Fuhck yhou…" Marshall cursed, "You… you woulda luhved it… we couldha had fuhn… and now… you're gunna die… like she is."

Becca was fed up with his words. She raised her boot, held it above his head, and stamped down.

"Nuh… plea-!"

Marshall was silenced as her foot collided with his temple, the sheer force cracking open is skull, killing him instantly. Even though she knew she'd ended him, Becca repeatedly raised her foot and stamped for another thirty seconds or so, until Marshall's brain was spilled out across the road and his blood covered her foot.

Becca fell to her knees and turned her head. Shel was lying on the ground, still breathing rapidly. She wasn't dead yet.

Becca rushed over and put her hands on the sides of her elder sister's head. Shel took a few seconds to turn her head and look at her sister, who was stifling a stream of tears.

"Rebecca… Becca Williams," she smiled, "Bec… did… you… is he dead?"

Becca wiped her face with her sleeve and nodded slowly.

"You're face… you're bleeding, Bec."

Becca looked at Shel's chest. The damage was done; there was no saving her. "You're bleeding too," she tried to smile through her sadness, not for herself, but for her sister.

Shel grabbed her wrist. "You did… you… did well. Me… uh… not so much."

In an attempt to laugh, Becca coughed in pain. She was still winded. "I'm sorry…" she said, "It's my fault you got…"

"No," Shel silenced her, "This is all on me. Don't… blame yourself. If I hadn't… fallen behind, we would be okay."

Becca couldn't help but wonder how much time her sister had left. "Are you ok..? Do you have time?"

"No time… and… you know what comes next."

"What… comes next? I… I…" Becca stuttered, but soon she caught on.

"I'm gonna turn, sis, and if you can, I'd like not to… but if you can't… just… don't."

Becca looked around. There was still no sign of Vince, Miles, Wyatt, Annie or Russell.

"Hey," Shel caught her attention again. "You need to get your hair out of your face. It looks… dumb." She started to laugh, but ended up coughing up blood. "Hey, you know what?"

"What?" Becca asked, knowing it was time.

"We made it… to the road first." Shel smiled at Becca, and then her face relaxed.

She was gone. In a way Becca was glad; she didn't need to suffer any more.

Becca wiped the blood from her face, and slid her backpack off of her back. Opening it, she lifted her knife, and turned Shel's head over. She didn't want to disgrace her sister's body with a bullet hole, so she closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and drove the weapon into the back of her sister's skull.

She would've liked to bury Shel properly, but with no shovel to dig a hole, she instead opted to straighten out her legs and folded her arms in front of her chest, covering the wound that caused her death. She stood up, openly weeping now, and turned to look down the path.

Sliding her knife into her pocket, the crying form of the bloody-cheeked Rebecca "Becca" Williams began walking down the path, leaving the corpses of her dead sister and her killer behind.

**END OF EPISODE 2**

* * *

**To be continued in Episode 3: THE ENEMY WITHIN**


	16. EPISODE THREE - THE ENEMY WITHIN

**Day 259**

"Shel, what's wrong?" Becca asked, concerned that Roman had found out about the loose boards behind the storage lot, "Am I in trouble?"

"It's Stephanie," Shel sighed. "She stole a bunch of supplies and tried to escape."

Becca was overcome by mixed feelings. Stephanie was her friend, and she'd betrayed them; maybe even sentenced to death. "Oh my god," she muttered, looking at the ground, "What the hell did she do that for?"

"Roman says we have to…"

"Kill her? Yeah." Becca was annoyed that she had been betrayed by her friend, the one who had taught her guitar and had her back numerous times before. "Why would she do this to us?"

"Because this place isn't safe isn't safe any more." Shel admitted, "After those guys attacked us – even after we let their friend go, this place just hasn't been the same."

"Of course not, Roman's trying to make it better." Becca argued.

"Better?! No one is happy any more. We live like prisoners." Shel countered.

Becca was afraid that Shel was going to suggest leaving and making a go of it in the wild. "But it's safe here," she said, "I mean, yeah, I want to get away every now and then, but I would never leave. That's crazy."

"Roman wants me to do it." Shel stated.

"I'm sorry." Becca admitted, showing her sadness momentarily. She huffed, "Let's just get it over with. Your gun's over there; in the drawer."

Shel pulled open a cabinet in the RV and reached in for her gun, but she hesitated. "You know, we don't have to do this. We can just go."

Becca was shocked. "What?"

"We've survived on our own before, if we just go we can be out of here before anyone can do anything about it." Shel said, putting the keys to the RV on the table.

"Are you crazy? Where would we go? There's nothing out there. As long as we're here, we're safe. The group will protect us."

"But for how long?" Shel asked bluntly.

"I don't know, longer than we'd survive out there. Besides, you know the rules. If we try to leave, Roman_ will_ hunt us down. We don't have a choice – this is who we are now."

Shel lifted her gun with a weary look on her face as Becca stared at her angrily. "I don't want _this _to be who we are." Shel admitted.

Becca spoke without thinking. "Just let me do it then."

"Fine," Shel said, "Go ahead."

Becca stared at the pistol, regretting her words. She tried to think of an excuse that didn't make her seem like a complete flake. "No. Roman said he wants you to do it. I'll… do it when it's my turn."

It probably wasn't like shooting a walker. Stephanie would've looked into her eyes as she pulled the trigger ending the life of her friend, and she couldn't muster up the courage to do that, even if it affected her reputation. She sighed. "This really sucks."

Shel looked away, "Yeah, it does."

**Day 864 – Morning**

**Becca**

That particular thought played over and over in Becca's mind as her feet scraped across the wet asphalt. She'd not been able to shoot Stephanie, but somehow she had killed a living man not half an hour ago.

She told herself that it was because of what he was going to do with her and that he had shot Shel, but in the back of her mind she believed that it was somehow instinctive to shoot him, and that she'd wanted to do it to someone for a long time.

She couldn't understand why she had stamped on his head repeatedly, though; was it revenge, or for the hell of it? She could have just shot him and felt similar satisfaction, but she wanted him to feel pain before he died and the first couple of stamps provided him with that.

Becca wasn't sure where she was heading. Her cheek stung where it had been slit by a tree branch or a thorn, her throat ached where Marshall had attempted to choke her to death, her stomach hurt from where she had been winded, and she had no idea where anyone else was, or if they were even alive.

The rain had stopped a while ago, but Becca's wet fringe was still matted down onto her face. She usually kept it out of her face, but she couldn't see a reason why she had to. There was no point in doing anything any more.

Becca felt cold hit her cheek. Assuming it was just rain dropping from the leaves overhead, she carried on dragging her feet forward with no destination planned. But then the usual wavering intake of breath that she experienced every time she started weeping came and she knew what was happening. Before long, she was fully crying, and didn't stifle herself because nobody was around to see or judge.

She fell to her knees, a lump in her throat, and wiped her brow with the back of her hand. It was no use; it had finally hit her - Shel was dead. Just like her mother and father before her. Becca was the only one left now, so maybe she should just give up.

But no, that's not what Shel would've wanted. Shel died so that Becca could survive, and honouring those wishes would be the right thing to do.

Becca couldn't remember the last time she'd done the right thing, though. She constantly snuck away and she was barely kind to anyone, mostly without reason. Back at the settlement she had been mean to Sarah, and even though the other kid was weird and acted like she was eight years old, Becca couldn't help but feel like she should have capitalised on the fact that there was someone her age there. She missed the chance to make a friend.

Truth be told, she wasn't friends with anyone, though she couldn't blame them for that. Vince, Russell, Wyatt… they were all thrown together by circumstance, but most of them acted like they were friends with each other and that she was simply there. Becca realised that her bad temper and awful personality ultimately boiled down to jealousy; Sarah was friends with her little group and later on the kid with the hat, Vince and Wyatt were friends along with Russell, but Becca had nothing; no friends.

Not even her sister any more.

She climbed back onto her feet and picked up the pace as she saw something blocking the road in front of her. Her stomach was empty, her mind was racing, fuelled with blame and guilt, and she had no one to tell her it was all going to be all right.

In the middle of the road sat the truck. Becca hadn't realised she'd come this far out. She turned her head and saw that she'd actually come out of the woods quite a while ago.

She looked at the truck, with its broken sliding door, and decided that it was a good enough shelter. Judging by what Vince had yelled, people would be headed this way, and they wouldn't have to worry about Marshall chasing them.

Becca hoped someone would find Marshall's body on the way back, and Shel's. Then she wouldn't have to explain what happened.

She climbed up into the truck, and pulled the sliding door down behind her, until she felt the familiar jolt where it usually got stuck. She sat down and used her palms to push herself backwards so she could lean against the wall, her grazed wrists stinging as she did so. She sat against the wall and drew her legs into her chest, resting her arms on her knees.

Becca sobbed quietly into her arms as she sat there, covered in blood, rain and dirt. While Shel had probably wanted her to continue it would be so hard without any family left. Becca didn't even know where to begin. Did she look for the others? Wait for them to come and find her?

What seemed like hours passed as Becca wept in the back of the truck, the noise of walkers passing over echoing over the landscape until it seemed like they'd all moved on. Perhaps the sound of the weather had drawn them out of their holes to attack.

**Day 864 – Late Morning**

**Becca**

Becca had been phasing in and out of varying states of consciousness over the course of the morning. Currently in one a more aware position, she sat fiddling with one of the buckles on her boots. The tears had stopped a while ago, and her hair and clothes, along with the blood that covered her, was dry.

Sunlight had slowly found its way through the gap beneath the door, and Becca decided that it was time to venture outside. Either that or stay in the truck forever.

As she slowly crept towards the door and pulled it upwards, she heard heavy breathing from outside and instantly reeled back in fear.

Then she remembered she'd killed Marshall, so it was very likely to be a friendly person out there. She lifted up the door, which squealed, but no one was waiting for her. She tip-toed around the edge of the vehicle and saw a familiar, blue-shirted man sitting down, leaning against one of the wheels. He was looking at the ground so he didn't instantly notice her and it seemed like his attention was focused on his hand, which was covering an injury on his shoulder.

He blinked profusely and then turned to look at Becca. "Oh, thank god." He sighed in relief, "Someone else made it."

"Are you okay?" Becca asked, forgetting everything that had come before.

"I'm, um, all right for now," Miles said as he stood up, still covering his injury, "You're in a worse state than me – you're covered in blood and… have you been crying."

Becca realised that getting defensive wasn't going to help. "Yeah…" she admitted.

"Oh god, what happened? Where are the others?" Miles gasped, his eyes darting around.

"You weren't even with us…" Becca stated, "How did you know to come here? What happened to you?"

Miles immediately forgot about the questions he had asked and instead provided answers. "I shot that kid right through the… through the head," he winced as he gripped his shoulder, his left hand covered in blood. "I, um… It was a clean shot, but you guys ran off and… Marshall came up the stairs. Honestly I'm… I'm surprised he didn't kill me, he just… said he'd come back for me later and fucking stuck a knife in my arm… I think I must've fainted or something…"

Miles lifted his shaking left hand and revealed a hefty gash through his right shoulder. "I'm surprised I even woke up after that. Still had the knife in me and it was light outside… but you were all gone… I… I tried…" He staggered and fell against the truck. "Now I think about it… I probably should've left the knife in… it would've stopped the blood."

"I don't know where the others are," Becca said, "We all got split up."

"What happened to you?" Miles asked, "You're covered in blood and dirt, and your throat's bruised… and you said you've been crying."

Becca stood over Miles as she recounted her story. "I haven't seen Vince or Russell or Wyatt or Annie since we left the house. Shel and I got chased through the woods by Marshall, he got me on my own…" She shuddered as she recalled his intentions, "He said… I was gonna replace that kid in his room… He was gonna hurt me…"

"Oh god, he didn't… you know..?" Miles asked with his eyes wide.

"No, Shel showed up in time but…" Becca felt a lump in her throat, "He shot her. She's… gone." Her eyes began streaming again. "But I killed him."

"Oh no," Miles said, standing back up. His injured arm was limp, but he walked over to her and embraced her. "It's not… it's not your fault." He pulled her into an embrace, and she didn't fight. It was good to feel the comfort, even if it was someone she'd only known for a week or so. "You're okay… we're… we're fine now; he's gone. And don't blame yourself for Shel, either."

"You don't understand," Becca moaned.

"You're wrong." Miles said, "I do. I lost someone too, not long ago. Laura and I… we were… close, I guess. A little more than friends; more than best friends, even. I blamed myself for her death and you know who helped me get out of that… that guilt? Shel. Shel did, and she wouldn't want you to… blame yourself."

The injured man let go of Becca and looked her in the eyes. "Now, I'm gonna get you out of here. We're gonna find the others, we're gonna find safety, we'll be okay."

The two picked up their things and began walking down the road. Miles clutched his arm, while Becca hung her head. She was glad that she'd been found by someone who understood her pain. Maybe now it wouldn't be so hard to continue on.


	17. Friend In Need

**Day 864 – Early Morning**

**Russell**

"Come on; get the fuck out of there." The figure said as he grabbed Russell's injured leg and tugged. Russell yelped in pain and retracted his limb, lifting his gun. "Don't move," he threatened, "I'm armed."

"Jesus, man," the figure moved back, holding his arms up, one of which was holding a flaming torch. "Don't do anything reckless, don't be like me. You're bleedin', so you're hurt, right?"

Russell didn't want to give away his injury and make himself an easy target, "I'm fine. I'm just hiding from the walkers and that guy who's shooting around."

"I heard that fucker, yeah," his attacker said, oddly sociable, "Heard shootin' so I came up and tried to find out what the fuck was going on. I figured it was you folks setting that old creep off."

"What do you mean? How do you know me?" Russell asked, intrigued. He was surprised the figure hadn't killed him yet.

"We met about a week ago, don't you remember?" The man asked. He moved forward and put his torch closer to his face so that light was cast upon it. His nose and mouth were covered by a neckerchief of sorts, and his forehead was shrouded by a hood, but Russell saw his dark skin and wild eyes and recognised him instantly. "You're the smoke guy – the one who said about walkers not being able to smell the 'human' over smoke?"

"That's the one. My name's not smoke guy, but I'll take it. Now come on, I ain't got nuthin' to do, so I'll help you out."

Russell was slightly relieved by this. It may have been a bandit, but at least it was the bandit he knew. The man offered him his hand and pulled him up, allowing him to lift his injured leg off of the ground. _"Better the devil you know than the devil you don't, right?"_ Russell thought awkwardly.

The 'bandit' held his torch aloft as he guided Russell through the woods. "Don't worry," he assured him, "The dead don't see light, as far as I know. It's the people you've gotta worry about."

"With any luck, the 'people' are mine." Russell hoped, gritting his teeth in pain.

"How'd you hurt your leg?" The bandit asked, "You're covered in mud."

"We ran into the woods and didn't realise there was a drop. We all fell, and I landed on my leg. It was bad already."

The man kept his eyes pointed forwards as he scanned the area for walkers. "I don't know how much I can help you; I only have some stuff from my old scavenging days."

"How long were you a scavenger for?"

"Up until about yesterday, the only guys I could trust got killed; one was eaten, the other one was shot. Y'know those two guys you heard talking when we met? I was tracking them so I could get revenge on one of the people they were with. I've tracked one of them across states, man."

"So why stop now?" Russell asked, puzzled.

"Revenge, while satisfying, doesn't solve anything. I need people to have my back, so I guess helping people like you is the way to do that. I'm sick of being… bad, y'know? I just want safety." The man sighed, "My guys are dead. They had my back, and now I'm alone. You have people, and this is gonna sound pathetic, but are you lookin' for more?"

Russell was taken aback by this stranger. He was an ex-bandit, ex-scavenger asking to join his group. "How can I trust you?" Russell asked, "You already said you're a bandit, or were at least, what stops me from thinkin' you won't just stab me in the back?"

"Like I said, safety is more important to me now than your freakin' stuff, and I abandoned my revenge to join you guys. _And_ I'm helping you to safety instead of leaving you to die and then taking all your gear."

"I guess," Russell said. "We'll see what the others say, if they're still around."

"Glad to hear it." The man's eyes lit up. Russell wasn't sure, but under the mask that covered his mouth the man seemed like he was smiling. This wasn't the first act of kindness Russell had received from a stranger; the first had turned sour later down the line, but Russell couldn't attribute a lack of trust to everyone, otherwise he would have left Vince, Wyatt, Shel, Becca and Bonnie at the beginning of all this, and they had turned out to be good people. What's to say this 'bandit' wouldn't atone for his past mistakes? Russell knew he'd done bad things in his very first group; he'd essentially been a bandit, and he had tried to leave that behind him when he joined his current group.

"We're here," the man said, bringing Russell into a clearing. A fire pit that was extinguished sat in the middle and there were some logs that the bandit probably used as seats, but there was no sign of a bed. Russell looked around further and noticed the bandit had made himself a bed higher up in the trees on a thick branch.

The man pulled down his neckerchief and his hood, revealing a small amount of hair on his head and thick stubble on his chin. He kneeled down and said, "I'll see what I can find to clean your wound, man."

He pulled a bottle out of his bag. "Found some peroxide in a shed while I was tracking those folks. There were too many to take on alone so I just hid out there till morning. The bottle's half empty but we should be good to clean your leg up at least."

He turned around and raised his hand for Russell to shake. "Name's Ralph," he said, "And you are..?"

"Russell." Russell said, shaking his new ally's hand.

"Now, then, this is probably gonna sting like a bitch so you should probably get ready." Ralph said, as he lifted the bottle of peroxide. Russell pulled up the leg of his pants and took off the bandage he'd made earlier. "Is that folded over?" Ralph asked. "Because you could probably use it to wipe your leg before I do this."

Russell did as intstructed, removing as much of the blood as he could with a clean side of the towel he'd previously used to cover the split skin on his leg. As he moved the towel to one side, Ralph quickly poured the peroxide onto his injury when he wasn't expecting it. He sucked air through his teeth and stamped his good leg in pain as Ralph quickly put a hand over his mouth to shut him up.

"Okay, okay," Ralph said, his wild eyes darting around to check for walkers, "We're good. We're cool."

Russell began to wrap the clean side of the towel around his leg again but Ralph halted him. "What're you doing?" he asked, "We ain't done yet."

"What else is there to do?" Russell asked.

Ralph held up his torch, muttering "Now I only know the basics, but my friend, Mister Fire, ought to stop that from getting infected."

Russell jolted back in horror, but Ralph grabbed his shoulder and pulled him forward so that he couldn't escape. He held the fire to Russell's leg as the younger man spasmed in pain. "Hold still!" Ralph hissed as the smell of burning flesh mixed with the smell of smoke.

Ralph let Russell go after about fifteen seconds, who continued screaming into his palm with his eyes wide open. "I don't even know if I was supposed to do that," he admitted, "Anyway, any better?"

"Hell no!" Russell screamed, "You fucking burned me!"

"Look, shut up, man. The walkers have cleared off and I'm feeling generous right now but I could always go back on my word, pop you and take all your shit, so calm your ass down."

Russell was in no position to argue. It's not like he could run away from Ralph so he'd just have to play along. "Okay," he sighed, breathing heavily, "Okay…"

"Now, then," Ralph asked, "You got anywhere to be headed? Looks like you were split up from your guys, any idea where to find them?"

Russell cast his mind back through the harrowing events of the night. Something stuck out in his mind. Vince had said to get to the road and that was their best bet.

"Do you know how to get to the road?" Russell asked, "One of my friends yelled to go that way, so maybe that narrows it down."

"'Course I know how to get to the road, spaz," Ralph grumbled, "Fuckin' tracker who can't find the road? What do you think I am?" He offered his hand to Russell, "Come on, man, you're gonna need help walkin' for quite a long time, and I can't just leave you here, I'm a changed man, after all."


	18. The Meeting Point

**Day 864 – Late Morning**

**Wyatt**

Wyatt awoke to sunlight hitting his eyes, his glasses askew. He scratched his beard and straightened up his glasses, then remembered where he was.

In the middle of the night, he and Annie had stumbled upon an abandoned car. It seemed as if it had ditched in a rush as one of the doors had been left open. Wyatt assumed the issue was down to a lack of gas.

Annie was gently snoring in her sleep, her head leaning against his shoulder with her jaw hanging open. Wyatt gently tapped her shoulder to wake her, but she didn't respond, so he grabbed her by the shoulders and sat her up so she wouldn't fall over if he moved.

Wyatt pulled himself towards the door of the car – a back door, because he and Annie had been asleep in the back of the car so there was less chance of them being seen – and pulled the handle. The gentle click made Annie shudder, but she still didn't wake up.

"Hey, dude," Wyatt said, poking Annie's shoulder, "Rise and shine. Don't make me carry you."

Annie's eyes fluttered and she awoke. "What time is it?" She asked as she rubbed her eyes with her hands.

"Not sure, seems like morning to me, though," Wyatt said, looking at the sky, "We should probably get moving; hopefully someone will be at the truck, like Vince said."

He helped the seven-year-old out of the car, and then they started the long walk down the road. "How are you doing?" He asked.

"I'm okay. Last night was scary."

"You're telling me." Wyatt smirked. "I didn't hear anything after you fell asleep. Maybe Vince got him or something. I think we're okay."

Annie paused. "Once we find everyone, where do we go?"

"You're a sharp kid. I'm not sure, hopefully Vince has a plan. Vince always does. He got us out of the settlement, he told us to run for the road…"

"I didn't see the other man running away with us, what happened to him?"

"You mean Marshall?" Wyatt asked, confused.

"No, the tall one. He had blond hair."

Wyatt understood. "Ah, that's Miles, man." Wyatt feared for his friend's fate. "I don't know where he is. Hopefully he hid or something. I don't know what they found upstairs in the house, but I don't think it was nice."

Wyatt spotted something in the road. "Hang back, dude, but keep look out and tell me if you see anything. I don't want you to get hurt."

From what Wyatt could tell, two walker corpses lay in the road. The morning light got in his eyes as he crept forwards.

Walkers didn't usually lie down, so it was safe to assume they were dead. Wyatt felt the need to double check.

Once he was about five metres away from the bodies, he recognised the first one. Marshall lay on his side, his hands hanging in front of him, with a great hole in his head and a torn open stomach. It seemed as if someone had shot him down and then finished the job.

"Glad we don't have to worry about him anymore." Wyatt said. The gore wasn't fresh, so it was safe to assume whoever had done this had moved on.

Then Wyatt noticed the second body. Lying on her back, with her arms folded in front of her, was Shel. Clearly she'd been left in the rain as her hair was matted down onto her face and her skin was extremely pale.

Someone had taken the time to lay her out like this, so it was someone who cared – therefore it couldn't be Marshall.

"Oh, god." Wyatt said. He turned to Annie. "Stay back, don't come over here." He tried to keep the kid in his peripheral vision as he worked things out.

Shel was dead, Marshall had killed her. Marshall was dead, Shel hadn't killed him.

So who did? Who had been there?

Wyatt looked at the ground. A bloody footprint lay there. He put his own food next to it to compare the size and noticed it was smaller. There were only two people who had smaller feet than him; Annie was right behind him, and the other was…

"Shit." Wyatt growled. It all fell into place. Shel had been with Becca. Marshall had presumably used Becca as a threat against Shel, Shel got shot, Becca somehow killed Marshall. That would explain the violent killing blow to his skull and how Shel was laid out neatly.

"Annie, we need to go." Wyatt walked back to his ward and gripped her hand, pulling her along. "We have to hurry, they might still be around."

The duo ran down the road, rain reflecting on the ground and sun shining overhead. Eventually they broke out of the trees and saw the truck in the distance.

Wyatt saw two figures supporting each other as they walked in that direction, one shorter than the other. "Hey, wait!" He called.

One of the two turned to look at him, but Wyatt didn't recognise the man. He felt as if he'd made a big mistake until the man turned his companion around and they saw the familiar face of Russell. It looked like he couldn't walk on his own, so Wyatt rushed up to him and patted his shoulder. "Glad to see you made it, man." He sighed in relief as Annie rushed towards him and caught up.

"This is Ralph," Russell said, gesturing to the man with him. "He helped me. My leg isn't doing so well so he tried to stitch it up."

"Where did you come from?" Wyatt asked, concerned.

"Been livin' in the woods," Ralph explained, "Heard the commotion last night, thought I'd come and help you guys if you were willing to take me with you."

"Well," Wyatt said, "I guess extra hands will help if we go looking for the others." He turned back to Russell. "I don't know how you're gonna take this, dude, but I'm just gonna tell you now. Shel's… um… Shel's gone."

"What do you mean? She ran off?"

"No man, she's uh, she's dead." Wyatt admitted bluntly.

Russell sat down on the edge of the truck. "Oh, man. What about Becca or Vince? Maybe they were together."

"Marshall's dead, I know that much." Wyatt said, causing Russell to sigh in relief, "I think he was using Becca to threaten Shel, Shel made a move, she got shot, Becca somehow turned the gun on Marshall and killed him."

"Oh damn," Russell said, "Any idea where Becca went? If she's out there on her own…"

"We tracked her back here." Wyatt said, wrenching the door of the trailer up. "She's been here, that's for sure. There's blood and dirt in the back of the truck, though I think it must be Marshall's, because it looks like it's been walked in and he had a huge hole in his face."

"Damn, she stamped him?" Russell asked, "Holy shit, can't say I blame her."

Ralph appeared from around the edge of the truck and said, "Blood down here too. Wiped on the edge of the truck; I'd say someone was injured and fell against the side of the thing."

"I don't know what she's up to, man," Wyatt said, "But we need to find her."

"Vince said to stay here." Russell disagreed, "Becca came back and left and I ain't heard anything about Vince or Miles. So what do we do?"

Ralph spoke up, "Tell you what, you folks hang back here and I'll go look for 'em. This Vince guy told _you_ to stay here, not me."

"I'll come with you," Russell said, "so they know it's us."

"Nah, you'll just slow me down. I can be quick if I'm on my own, and I know this forest pretty well. Just give me your names and hopefully that will be enough for whoever I find."

"Okay, dude, you'd better be right about this," Wyatt said, "I'm Wyatt, this here is Annie, and I guess you already know Russell."

Ralph rubbed his palms together. "All right, I'll be back." With that, he proceeded to sprint off back in the direction of the woods.


	19. Own Two Feet

**Day 864 – Midday**

**Vince**

Vince's eyelids opened and closed rapidly as he was freed from slumber. His face was half-submerged in mud, his clothes were damp, and his head ached like hell. It felt as if his skull had decreased in size and was pushing on his brain.

He tried to sit up, but it was too hard. He suddenly felt drowsy and his vision shook, causing him to collapse back to the ground.

"_I'll give it a minute,"_ he thought, as he stared up at the sky through the trees.

He rolled his eyes in his head to look around. He didn't know how he'd got there; his most recent memory was running through the fields outside Marshall's house and then waking up here.

"_Speaking of which,"_ he paused, _"What happened to the others and Marshall? Did we get split up or something?"_

Vince looked down at his body. His shirt was covered in blood, and he could see his machete in the distance, lodged in the dirt.

"_Maybe I'm dead."_ He thought, _"Maybe this is what it's like to be dead."_

But would he still feel pain if he was dead, would he still feel so raw and bloodied?

Vince pushed himself up again with his palms. It was hard work, but he managed to put himself into a sitting position, up against a tree. He gave himself another minute or so and then tried pushing himself up into a standing position, still leaning against the tree trunk.

"_So far so good,"_ he declared, _"Now the tricky part."_

He pushed himself forwards so that he was standing freely, no longer supporting himself with anything. He probably hadn't had so much trouble standing up since he'd first stood on his own two feet as an infant. Maybe even that had come more naturally to him.

With no goal in mind, Vince staggered over to his machete and drew it from the ground, feeling woozy as he leaned over to retrieve it. He searched his memories to see if the group told him where they'd gone, but his search came up dry.

Maybe he was going the wrong way about all this; maybe they'd set up a meeting point back at the house or something, but as he tried to remember, he couldn't think of anything.

"_Ok… ok… so we left the house… Miles wasn't with us. We ran through the field, then what happened?"_

He massaged his temples in an attempt to recover his lost memories. _"How did I get down here?"_

Vince remembered he'd hit his head on something as his entire body was moving fast. _"Did I fall or something?"_

That was it; the key to unlock his lost memories. He'd fallen down a hill and hit his head on the way down, possibly staggered over to where he was now and collapsed.

Still, that didn't provide him with any information on where to go now. His gut instinct told him to go back to the truck or Marshall's house, because someone else must have gone there, it was simply the logical thing to do.

"Ok, which way did I come from?" He thought aloud. He turned around and looked at the dirt, which had been pressed down in certain areas by feet. He realised they ended where he'd collapsed, so they must have been his own footprints.

Tracing them back, Vince found himself at the bottom of a steep hill, which protruding rocks and bushes. "Shit," he groaned, "That's gonna be too steep to climb."

The worst part was he knew the field he'd run across the night before was just at the top of that hill, beyond the trees. He had to resort to following the hill east, passing a large stone wall.

He noticed that the ground by the wall had several blood stains leading away from the clearing. Deciding one of his friends must have dropped off of the wall and injured themselves, he hobbled along, tracking the blood stains. It didn't provide any comfort that one of his friends was apparently injured, but it could mean that he could catch up quicker.

Eventually Vince lost sight of the trail of blood and found himself by a pond. The damp in his clothes hadn't helped with the cold, and he was surprised he hadn't got hypothermia or something yet. He crouched down and studied the water for corpses or anything that could contaminate it, and then put his hands in, using it to clean his face, and then his machete.

Now that the trail had gone cold, Vince decided he should head back up to the house or the truck. Working his way back to where he'd been before, he found himself lost, but saw a clearing up ahead. Hoping it was the field that sat between the truck and the house; he headed for it, but was quickly disappointed.

He heard a snapping and a crunch of leaves in front and to the right of him, so instead of walking through the clearing he opted to hide behind one of the trees. Two figures came into view, half running, half staggering. One of them was a man, the other a girl, and they were being followed by walkers.

The girl was locked in combat with one walker, so she didn't notice the man fall over beneath a walker; it was taking all of his might to hold it off. While he was unable to recognise them with his splitting headache and shaky view, Vince lifted his machete and hobbled into the chaos, slamming it down onto the walker's head. It fell limp, and the man turned to look at Vince. "Holy shit!" He said, "it's you!"

It took a minute for Vince's vision to clear but after it did he recognised Miles. The man was in a bad state, with a bloody, limp shoulder and pale skin, but he found his way to his feet. "You okay?" He asked, concerned.

"Not really," Vince replied.

"Well, give me that," Miles said, taking Vince's machete, "I'm a lefty anyway." He lifted the weapon in his good arm and ran towards the walker that was attacking his ally, who Vince recognised as Becca, and took it down with one slash.

"We're good… we're good," Miles said, resting his arm on Becca's shoulder. "We're fine, it's done."

Vince staggered over to them and asked, "Seen any of the others?"

"No such luck," Miles said, and then scowled at him, "Where the hell have you been? Becca told me you shouted for everyone to get to the road, but you weren't there!"

"_Did I?"_ Vince thought, and then said "I ran into a bit of trouble, I can't remember a whole lot and from what I can tell I've been out cold for most of the night. Why isn't Shel with you?"

Becca looked at him, a sorrowful expression on her face, something Vince had barely seen from her before. "Oh, no, what happened?"

Miles looked him in the eyes, "She's dead."

Vince inhaled sharply, "What?!"

"Marshall was gonna do things to Becca, Shel tried to help, she got shot."

"Then what happened to Marshall, if Becca's here? You killed him and saved her?" Vince pondered.

"No, man. Becca had to do it herself. Shot the fucker and… well, made sure he didn't come back."

"Holy shit…" Vince said, and then looked at Becca, "Sorry you had to do that."

He didn't get a response; the fifteen-year-old was busy breathing heavily. Vince assumed she was attempting not to cry, so he didn't press the subject.

He felt empty himself. Shel had always been keen to do the right thing, the moral compass of their group. Without her, the group could potentially fall apart. He also missed her on a personal level. She'd been an extremely good friend of his, someone he could trust and someone he'd respected. _"One less person having to live in this hell, though," _he told himself.

"Come on, let's go." He said, "We looking for the others, or are we going back to the road?"

"Let's keep looking," Miles said, "Give ourselves an hour and head back."

The three began to walk into the woods opposite from where Miles and Becca had emerged, but a crackling behind them forced them to stop. "Hold it," said a voice.

He was holding up a pistol and Vince caught a vague scent of smoke. "Who are you?" He asked, holding his hands up in surrender.

"If you're who I think you are, I'm here to help." The man said.

"Your gun isn't exactly helping," Miles said, holding his arm to his shoulder. "How can we trust you."

"I know him." Becca said, and turned to Vince, "This is the man I saw with..."

"Russell," the stranger finished. "You folks made an awful racket last night. I found Russell and took him back to your truck. There were two others with us."

"Oh yeah?" Vince asked, sceptically. "How can we believe you?"

"I know their names – Wyatt, Russell, Annie." The man replied.

"That's not good enough for me." Miles said, "Give us some more details."

"Blonde man, big hair and beard, green shirt, another one was a short kid, brown hair, round face, huge green jacket, and Russell had a damaged leg and he was wearing blue."

Vince shrugged. "I… guess we can trust you. But I'd prefer it if we kept our distance. You lead on."

"Fair dos," the man sighed, lowering his weapon, "Name's Ralph. You are..?"

"Vince, Miles and Becca." Vince replied, gesturing to each of them.

"All right, then. Off we go."


	20. On The Road

**8 Days Later**

**Day 872 - Afternoon**

**Russell**

A week or so ago, Ralph had been able to round up the group and bring them all back together. Miles had appeared with a damaged arm and Vince had seemed concussed, but with some treatment they were back to a more regular condition. As everyone knew about Shel's demise, no one brought the subject up unnecessarily. Russell's leg had healed slightly so that he could walk on his own, but it still pained him.

As it stood, the group was attempting to break out of the area that Carver's group had cleared of supplies and in doing so they had found their way into Indiana; at the moment they were situated a couple of miles outside of Evansville. Aside from that, not much of interest had happened.

The group were walking down a road with fields and the occasional building on both sides. It was almost reminiscent of where they had left the truck, but the terrain was much flatter. Off in the distance was the sight of Evansville, the first town Carver hadn't looted.

Everyone marched in groups of two; Vince and Wyatt – who was carrying Annie - at the front, followed by Becca and Miles, while Russell and Ralph brought up the rear. Russell was still slightly unsure of the scavenger they'd brought along, but the man had helped them enough to earn their collective trust, plus his skills would come in handy when they looked for supplies in the town.

"Can we stop?" Miles asked, "My arm's aching like a bitch."

"We'll stop when we find shelter," Vince replied without looking round, "We're almost there now."

Miles muttered angrily to himself about his arm.

"So, what are we actually looking for?" Russell asked.

"Anything, really; food, water, anything we can burn, clothes because it's getting even colder." Vince spoke the truth. There was an unwelcome chill in the air, and Russell had seen snow fall lightly in the past few days. They'd have to get hats and jackets before the end of the month or they'd be screwed.

"Yeah, this is what we're looking for." Vince said, as the group hid behind an overturned car, an abandoned out-of-town mall in the distance. "We'd better hope there aren't any walkers in there."

"Bound to be some," Ralph said, "There always are."

The group trusted the scavenger's judgement. "You want to lead?" Wyatt asked him, "You know best about this sort of stuff."

"Fair dos," Ralph said, and then stood up to walk through the car park. The group quickly fell into line behind him, as he told them what they needed. "In my time as a scavenger I learned that you gotta get certain things then get the fuck out; clothes, food, water, meds and stuff you can use as a bat or a club against the dead."

"Got it." Vince said.

"Probably best if we split up into groups 'cause there's enough of us." Ralph decided, "Make sure we got an even amount. I'll take you three," he said, gesturing to Wyatt, Annie and Russell, "'cause I know what I'm doin and you folks will just get in the way. Keep watch or somethin'," he turned back to Vince, Miles and Becca, "This place is pretty big. You three clear out the first floor and we'll come up when we're done with the ground floor."

Vince nodded and pulled the door open.

"We'd better get in quick," Russell remarked, "Walkers are starting to show up." Shapes were moving in the distance. He was never sure what attracted them – they were being quiet. Maybe it was the smell.

"A'ight, get in." Ralph huffed.

The group rushed inside, Russell noting the "Eastland Mall" sign as they did so. Miles closed the door behind them and Becca and Vince pushed a shelf in front of it so that no walkers could get in quickly. "That oughta slow 'em down." Vince noted.

"Holy shit, dudes…" Wyatt said, his back to the group, facing the mall in all its glory. "Some of the shutters are still down. Some of these stores haven't been_ touched_."

"Finally, some good luck." Becca remarked bluntly.

Annie jumped down from Wyatt's arms but stayed close to him. "There's a clothes store up there," she said, pointing to a shop that was behind a first-floor balcony. "We can get some things for the cold."

"Good eye, kid," Ralph said, "But you're with me." He turned to Vince, "Hey, Vinny, you're up there. Take Grumpy and Sleepy with you." He said, referring to Becca and Miles respectively. He then turned to Wyatt. "Dopey, with me."

Russell followed Ralph, Wyatt and Annie as the other three departed for the first floor. Wyatt was muttering to himself. "Man, if Eddie were here, _he_ would've been Dopey."

"Ah, pharmacy right here." Ralph said, jolting to the left and ducking down. He gripped the bottom of the shutters and tried pulling them up, but it was padlocked at the bottom. "Bullshit," he said, running his hand over his shaved head. "Where's a fuckin' angle grinder or somethin' when you need one?" He lifted his head, "Damn, need some cutters. Have you folks seen a hardware store or anything?"

Wyatt looked at Russell and smirked, "Have I seen a hardware store…" he stifled a chuckle, "Boy, have I."

Ralph didn't get the joke and asked "Where?"

"I… uh… don't see one." Wyatt admitted.

"Well don't get my fuckin' hopes up, then." Ralph said. "Piece of shit damn door… looks like we ain't gettin' in." He kicked the door in frustration.

"There's always a chance there's a rival chain of pharmacies around here," Russell suggested, "You know how companies are, always competing for market share as well as location and convenience."

"The fuck you on about, kid?" Ralph asked.

Russell shrugged, "I guess I'm the only one here who studied Economics at college."

Wyatt looked at him, "Dude, you think I even _went_ to college? Straight outta high school Eddie and I were just on the road screwin' around; smoking weed and stuff."

"Why would you smoke plants?" Annie asked, "My dad used to have these white tubes that smelled really bad."

"You mean cigarettes?" Wyatt questioned.

"I think so," Annie sighed, "they made the house smell and he got really angry when I said I didn't like it. That was before everything happened. Before Mister Carver found me… what was your dad like?"

Wyatt groaned, "My dad was like me, he was cool. Not like my mom, fuckin' dragon. Never gonna work out how they got together. Man, I miss my dad."

Annie looked away shyly. "I don't miss mine."

The three adults looked at each other awkwardly until Ralph spoke up. "All right, then. Shall we go check around and see if we can't find ourselves some bolt cutters?"


	21. Thick As Thieves

**Day 872 - Evening**

**Vince**

"Come on, up here." Vince said, leading Becca and Miles up an escalator. It was the first time Vince had seen an escalator that wasn't moving and had become a set of stairs.

Miles wasn't looking very well. His skin was pale and he was sweating slightly, even though it was the height of winter. "Damn…" he sighed, "You think the others will get some painkillers or some aspirin or antibiotics or something? My head's fuckin' killing me."

"You'll be okay," Becca said reassuringly, rubbing the cut on the side of her face which was emphasised by an ugly bruise. Luckily it hadn't been deep enough for them to have to stitch together, but had taken quite a while to scab over. Since Shel's demise, it seemed as if she'd formed a sort of attachment to Miles, maybe trying to fill the gap her sister had left.

The group of three made it to the top of the escalator and looked around for the clothes store Annie had pointed out. "Anyone remember when this whole thing started?" Vince asked, "If it was summer then they might not have winter stuff there."

"Let's hope they have that kind of stuff in the stockroom," Miles said, "They have to sell coats and shit somewhere. You never know when people need a new jacket."

"There's the store," Becca pointed out, "The shutters don't look like they were locked properly."

The three made their way across the balcony that overlooked the ground floor and found the clothes store. The shutters were slightly ajar, but there was a worrying spatter of blood beneath them. Vince kneeled down to lift them, but handed Becca his gun first. "As soon as I lift these, fire straight away; if there's a walker under there you'll hit it, and if there's a walker further back it'll draw it out of its hiding place."

He wrenched the shutters up and Becca instantly fired a shot through the gap. There was no sound of groaning or a body hitting the ground, no sound of a walker attracted by the noise.

"Looks like we're clear." Vince said, pushing the shutters up all the way so that they could walk inside.

It was weird seeing a store filled with products, yet no one to buy them. It was weird seeing a store with the lights off. "Anyone got a light?" Vince asked. In response Miles kneeled down and searched through his backpack. He lifted a lighter and handed it to Becca instead of using it himself, presumably so that he could keep hold of his injured arm. "What're we looking for?" he asked as he rubbed his shoulder.

"Anything that'll help us with the cold," Vince explained, "Even if some of us have jackets it'll be helpful to have a spare or something we can wear over that. You, me and Wyatt only have shirts, Russell has a hoodie, Becca, Annie and Ralph all have jackets, but we should still get something for everyone. For you, preferably something that supports your arm, I guess."

Miles nodded and then walked in the direction of a selection of winter clothing. "Keep an eye out for walkers, folks." He stated.

Vince found a shelf that contained a selection of different coats; he wasn't too fussed about how anything looked, he just wanted something that would keep him warm. He cycled through some of the jackets until he found a fur-lined grey parka. "Looks okay, looks warm." He said, and then found himself wondering what the price was, as if he had to pay for it.

Without hesitation, he pulled the jacket over his shirt and rubbed his hands together, instantly feeling the comforting warmth.

Miles appeared by his side and muttered, "Reminds me of Bill's jacket, friend."

Vince groaned, recalling Carver's brown jacket that bore a resemblance to his new one. "It doesn't matter, Miles, it's just a jacket. Where's _your_ jacket, anyway?"

Miles shrugged and raised two items of clothing. "Gonna have to be careful, I don't want to fuck up my stitches." He unfolded a grey hooded sweatshirt and put it on slowly, lifting the hood over his scalp. After that he pulled on a green jacket and zipped it up. "Ahh, there's the warmth," he sighed in relief, "Where's Becca?"

Vince shook his head, "Don't know. Becca?" he called.

"Over here," came a reply from another corner of the store. Presumably Becca had headed in that direction to find something closer to her size. "Stay here," Vince said to Miles, "Get the others some stuff too. I'll get Annie something while I'm with Becca."

Miles nodded and began shoving jackets into his backpack. Vince walked over to a set of shelves and found Becca rooting around behind it. Without looking him in the eye, she said, "If you'd been Shel, I would've pretended to be a walker and I would've jumped out at you."

"We're lucky I'm not, then." Vince replied.

"You're lucky I'm not an asshole like I used to be." Becca sighed. "Thirteen-year-old me would've found that hilarious, but now I just think it's dumb."

Vince leaned against the counter behind her. "Things suck, don't they?"

"Yeah."

"See anything in there that might fit Annie?" he asked.

"Plenty; all a better size for her than the one she has now, it's too big." Becca mumbled, "I wonder where she got that?"

"Remember when Carver used to come back with tons of clothes and food after a supply run? She probably got it from one of them, and considering I've never seen her parents she probably found stuff herself." Vince explained.

"Think she'd like this?" Becca asked, holding up a bright purple overcoat.

"Oh, god no," Vince groaned, shielding his eyes, "That thing's fucking horrible."

Becca grunted, "They do come in different colours. _Jesus_." She lifted up another jacket that was a similar style to Annie's original one, but it looked like it'd fit her better. "This one any good, _mister_ _lord of fashion_?" she asked sarcastically.

"Yeah, it's fine." Vince said. Becca threw him the jacket. "Put it in my backpack," She sighed.

"Found anything for yourself yet?" Vince asked, "Miles is looking for stuff for Ralph, Russell and Wyatt, so don't worry about them."

"Not yet," Becca groaned, "all this stuff is really shitty and _stylish_," she spat the last word out like it was a curse, "Reminds me of Sarah."

"I thought you hated Sarah?" Vince asked, confused.

"I'm having second thoughts," Becca admitted, "After what happened to Shel I'm having second thoughts about everything."

Vince thought about what that meant for a moment until Becca made a pleased-yet-surprised noise. "Just what I was looking for!" She grinned, holding up a red baseball jacket.

"Isn't that a guy's thing?" Vince asked, confused.

"Who cares? Shel always said the same thing; she never let me have one. I must have asked her like a hundred times, but now…" her body seized up and she looked at the ground. Vince guessed she was picturing what happened to Shel once again.

"Becca," he said in an effort to get her attention, "Becca!"

The fifteen year old shook her head and looked up at him. "Oh… sorry," she apologised.

"You don't need to apologise, just don't dwell on it, okay? Otherwise it'll keep coming back." Vince advised.

"So, uh, this jacket," Becca asked. "Can I have it?"

"Why are you asking me?" Vince said, "I'm not the boss of you; you want it, you can have it. I'd say you're old enough to decide for yourself."

Becca smiled gently while Vince put the coat they'd found for Annie in his backpack. "Now, come on," Vince said, "put that jacket on and then we can get out of here and see if we can find some food or something."

With that, he stood up and started to walk back in the direction of Miles, but Becca stopped him. "Vince, wait!" He turned around and saw her standing up with a rare smile on her face. "Thanks." She said.

"What for?" Vince asked.

Becca pulled her jacket on quickly, followed by her backpack. "Uh… don't worry about it. Let's go."


	22. Picking Up Strays

**Day 872 - Evening**

**Wyatt**

"Ugh, finally," Ralph sighed, as he pulled up the shutters and dropped the bolt cutters the group had found. "We're in."

Wyatt led Annie and a limping Russell inside the pharmacy while Ralph quickly checked the open area behind them for walkers. After that he ran into the store and dived over the counter, "Ok, you three keep watch; I'm going in the back to look for meds."

"This place is untouched," Wyatt remarked in awe, "We're having good luck for once."

Sounds of Ralph rooting through the back of the store echoed through the air while Wyatt, Annie and Russell stared around aimlessly. "Nothing's gonna come." Wyatt said as he slid his backpack off. "I'm gonna see what's around here." He walked around, scanning the shelves, picking up whatever looked interesting or useful; plasters, pills, anything. All the prescription drugs were behind the counter where Ralph was, so Wyatt was picking up anything they could use as backup if they ever ran out of the strong stuff.

"Well, that seems good enough," he said, satisfied with what he'd selected. He turned towards the counter and called, "You done back there yet, dude?"

In response, Ralph emerged and hopped the counter, looking smug. "So much shit back there, you wouldn't believe it. Got as much as I could, makes sense to check it all for expiration dates and shit like that once we're sure we're safe."

Wyatt nodded in agreement, "Well, let's get going, then; try and find another store?"

Ralph shrugged, "May as well look for some food or something, though there isn't much that lasts two years. Hunting is the better option."

"Let's wait for the others, then; keep lookout. Come on, kid." Wyatt said, gesturing to Annie.

The group of four shuffled out into the main open area of the Eastland Mall, looking around cautiously for signs of life… or death.

"Seems pretty clear to me," Russell noted, "Shall we look for the others on the first floor or wait…"

His words were cut off by the sound of smashed glass and shouting. A door at the opposite end of the mall to the one the group had come in through had been busted open and two figures ran through, shooting behind them. A couple of walkers followed them in but were quickly shot dead by one of the strangers as the other pushed something in front of the door to block the walking corpses' way in.

"That oughta do it," one of the figures – a man – said, wiping his brow. "Fuck, almost had us this time."

The two were still staring at their entry point and hadn't noticed Wyatt or the others. The second figure spoke, a woman. "We should check this place out, maybe we can scrounge up some stuff."

The man turned around and began walking in the direction of the group, still neglecting to notice them. "Let's do it. Maybe we can sleep here too. It's been a long time since we got our groove on…" His eyes widened as he noticed Wyatt and the rest. "Oh, shit. Babe, you need to help me right now." He raised his hands in surrender, but kept his pistol in his grip.

The man was Caucasian, had a blue cap, a slight beard and thinning hair, even though he looked as if he was in his late twenties or early thirties. As the woman turned around Wyatt saw that she was Hispanic and that she had tied-up black hair. "Shit." She groaned, and then looked at the group. "Can we just… not do this? You leave us, we'll leave you?"

"Do what?" Wyatt blurted, "We aren't doing anything; it's you who's worrying us."

"This is the first time people haven't instantly pointed guns at our heads." The man said, grinning, but the woman quickly cuffed him around the head.

"They're fine," the woman decided, and casually walked up to them, tucking her gun into her trousers. The man lowered his weapon and followed her. "How can you be sure?" he asked sceptically.

"Well, first of all, they're not pointing guns at us, and second, when have you ever seen a group of bandits with a kid?" The woman explained.

"Fair point," the man said, now a couple of metres from the group. He offered his hand for Wyatt to shake and said, "Name's Daniel. I'm happy you didn't kill me." 

Wyatt shook Daniel's hand and replied, "I'm Wyatt. The feeling's mutual."

The woman stopped slightly behind Daniel, but was more confident in her introduction. "I'm Lucia."

"You folks got this place under control or what?" Daniel asked, "If so, you have a sort of… infestation out in your back yard." He pointed over his shoulder with a thumb, gesturing towards the door he and Lucia had come in through.

"Actually, no," Russell spoke up. "We got in here maybe an hour ago, looking for supplies." Ralph shot an agitated glance at him, presumably to stop him talking before he gave away the fact that there were three more members of the group – Vince, Becca and Miles – that remained unspoken for.

"Ah, shit." Daniel grimaced. "You've tapped this place already, huh?"

"It hasn't been touched since all this shit went down," Wyatt explained, "Look around if you want, there's too much for us to take. Pharmacy's right there." He gestured to his left.

Daniel grinned as he looked at the drug store. "For real? Damn, son!" He turned to Lucia and said, "Don't worry, babe, I'll take care of this." With that, he dashed into the pharmacy like a kid in a candy store. Lucia watched him as he went, and then turned back to the group. "You guys seem pretty legit," she said, "Where are you headed? You gonna hang around here or do you have somewhere in mind?"

Wyatt shook his head. "We're not headed anywhere in particular. We came from further south than here; a lot of places were cleared out by a big settlement that isn't around any more."

"Well, we might have somewhere in mind, if you want to tag along," Lucia said, "As I said, you all seem okay, and you have a kid with you so you can't be that bad, speaking of which," she bent over and rested her hands on her knees, looking at Annie. "What's your name, hon?"

Wyatt quickly felt Annie's hand grip his wrist. Wyatt had been the one who rescued her and the others were all his friends, but these two new people remained unspoken for in her seven-year-old mind. "Annie." She stuttered.

Lucia smiled warmly and then turned to Russell. "You're not putting much weight on your leg, pal." She declared. "Are you injured?"

"I'm fine," Russell answered defensively.

"Are you sure?" She asked, "I'm a nurse, I can help."

Russell looked to Wyatt for support. "Go on," the bearded man said, "What's she gonna do?"

Russell groaned and lifted up his trouser leg. The flesh was an ugly red from where Ralph had attempted to cauterise it. It had helped somewhat, but it didn't look pretty. "A patch job, huh?" Lucia asked, "What did you use on it?"

Ralph spoke up. "Peroxide and fire." He said bluntly.

"Yeesh," Lucia grimaced, "not the best way to do it, but at least it seems like you stopped any infection from setting in."

"Well whadda you know?" Ralph scowled.

"I'm a nurse." Lucia repeated. "I probably know more than you do. I didn't catch your name, either."

"Ralph." The ex-scavenger said bluntly. The two held an irritated stare for a few seconds until Daniel emerged from the pharmacy looking satisfied.

"I have drugs, milady," he chuckled, "So many drugs."

"You're one weird man, Dan, I'll give you that." Lucia said, pulling him into a hug. "No cadavers in there?"

"Cadavers?" Russell blurted, "That's what you call 'em?"

"Again, I'm a nurse." Lucia said, "Sort of made sense at the time."

"Sounds like a bit of a mouthful. We just call 'em walkers." Wyatt said.

"Well, walkers, cadavers, whatever you want to call them, it doesn't matter. They're dead." She replied.

"So, you folks lookin' to let us into your little crew?" Daniel asked, "Safety in numbers and all that jazz."

"You don't seem like you're after our blood, so it can't do any harm." Wyatt said, "We'll let you tag along for now."

"Cool." Daniel grinned, "Cool, cool."

"Let's roll." Ralph ordered. Wyatt wondered how Daniel and Lucia would react to not being told about Vince, Becca or Miles. Maybe that would be an advantage if these two turned out to not be as nice as they had let on.


	23. Hashing Out Terms

**Day 872 - Evening**

**Becca**

Vince, Miles and Becca were pleased with their haul. Not only had they been able to pack some winter clothes, they'd found some canned and dried food that would probably taste disgusting but would probably be safe to eat.

Becca was happy for the first time since Shel's demise. Well, not _happy_, perhaps _content_. Vince had let her keep a jacket she'd always wanted, and it seemed like they were doing pretty well overall. Hopefully the others had found some medication that would help Miles get over the bout of whatever he had at the moment.

"You know what?" Miles asked, "We don't have anywhere in mind, why don't we just stay here? Start a community or something?"

"Miles, remember the last community we were at?" Vince sighed, "that went swimmingly, didn't it?"

"That was because of the forced labour and treating people like second class citizens, plus Bill didn't do himself any favours by leading the place alone. We could have a combined effort, and then no one would get so stressed to the point that they start pushing people off of roofs."

"I don't know, Miles. We can always chance our mind, it's not like this place is going anywhere." Vince said. "We can always come back."

"I'm just saying this place could last us for ages." Miles said. "Just… think about it, okay?"

Vince shrugged. "Let's just find the others first."

Becca followed Vince down the halted escalator with Miles behind her. As they made it to the ground floor, they noticed Wyatt, Russell, Annie and Ralph communicating with two strangers.

"Hold up," Vince instructed, "We can't be sure how this is gonna go." He ducked down behind the escalator for cover, and the other two followed suit.

"Maybe they live here?" Becca asked.

"No," Vince decided, "You see that door down there? It's blocked off now, but it wasn't when we first arrived. They just got here."

"Well, none of them are pointing guns or anything," Miles said. "I think we're good."

The three climbed out from their cover and walked slowly over to the group. They weren't noticed until they came within about ten metres, at which point the female stranger withdrew a gun from the back of her jeans and pointed it at Vince. "Don't move." She growled

Wyatt instantly turned and looked back at her. "Lower your gun, dude," he said, "it's cool, they're with us."

"You didn't tell us about them," The woman said, turning her gun on Wyatt, "planning an ambush, were you?"

"No!" Wyatt blurted frantically, "they were scouting upstairs. We don't want to ambush you; we already have what we came for."

The woman sighed and put her gun away. "Fuck, you're making sense, but you should've told us about them."

"Sorry." Wyatt apologised.

"Anyway," the woman said, turning to Vince, "The name's Lucia. You are..?"

"Vince." He said with an unconvinced look on his face. "This is Miles and Becca. Who's your friend?"

"Daniel." The male stranger answered. He had stubble on his face and from what Becca could tell he was hiding a receding hairline under a baseball cap even though he looked to be in his early thirties.

"Anyway," Vince said, "As you can probably tell, we found some clothes and stuff. We got the rest of you some, but we weren't expecting to join up with others." He eyed the strangers.

"Don't worry about us," Lucia said, "We can cope."

"Didn't realise you had more than one kid with you." Daniel remarked, looking at Becca. She felt a surge of rage within her. _"Vince had said I was old enough to make my own decisions. I'm not a kid."_ She scowled at the newcomer, forcing him to adjust his cap and back off nervously.

"Wyatt here tells us you're not headed anywhere in particular," Lucia said to Vince, "maybe we can help with that. There's a small outpost up in Indianapolis, on the way to a bigger settlement further north. Dan and I were headed there anyway, so if you want to tag along we'd be fine with that."

"We were thinking of staying here." Miles said bluntly.

"What?" Daniel asked, "You seen the amount of cadavers out there, pal? They're fucking everywhere. We've got a horde on our ass."

Becca couldn't help but wonder how the walkers formed into large, shambling groups of the dead. Maybe they were just naturally drawn to each other; maybe they started following one person and attracted more like them until there were hundreds.

"Shit." Miles said.

"The offer still stands," Lucia said, "If you don't like the outpost you can always come back here. This place isn't going anywhere, but you have kids and I'd like to make sure they were safe."

"We're not messing with you," Daniel said, "We'd appreciate the help of seven more people. Safety in numbers."

"You'd better not be messing with us," Vince threatened, "we've had this before. We got there, and then things started going downhill."

"It's a trip to an outpost," Lucia said, "We're only going to take you that far and then you can go anywhere you want. There are probably only three people there at any one time, you'd still outnumber us."

Vince shook his head, "I'm still not sure. You're convincing me, but how do I know you're not lying and you're just waiting to kill us?"

"Well this place has everything you have," Daniel said, "Why would we need to kill you and take your shit when we can get it here with less effort?"

"If we do this, we're doing it so that you two are basically our hostages." Ralph said, "I ain't up for any bullshit."

"Ah, fuck this," Daniel said, "If you're going with that we'll just go on our own."

"We'll do it this way," Lucia offered, withdrawing her weapon from the waistband of her jeans and handing it to Vince. "You take our guns. We'll keep our blunt objects we use for close range. That way it's harder for us to 'kill any of you' without the rest noticing. Not that we're planning on killing you, of course."

Vince took the gun and put it into his backpack. Ralph reached for Daniel and growled, "And yours." The newcomer quickly offered up his weapon and Ralph took it. "You realise if we get in a gunfight we won't be able to do anything, right?"

"Don't worry about it," Vince said, "We don't plan on getting into a gunfight. We're gonna check out a few more stores, and then we're out of here. Those walkers will probably pile in soon and that's not a situation I want to be in. You two can stay in the centre of the hall where we can keep an eye on you. Now let's go."

Becca followed Vince and the others as they left the two newcomers out in the open with no guns. She wasn't sure what to make of the two, but from how they reacted she guessed that they weren't planning an ambush to begin with, but judging by the welcome they'd received they may have got some ideas.

"_Maybe they think we're dicks,"_ she thought to herself, and then sighed, _"For some of us that wouldn't be too far from the truth. They're just getting themselves in trouble by joining up with us."_


	24. Out Of Luck

**Day 872 - Night**

**Vince**

The group had spread out along one large hall with stores on either side. Wyatt, Annie and Miles were together, Ralph and Russell were together and Lucia and Daniel were left in the centre of the hall where the group could keep their eyes on them. Vince had tracked Becca into a store where she'd said she would be able to find water.

He found her rooting through bottles, looking at expiration dates, with her back to him. He folded his arms and sat down on a crate behind her. "How was it?" He asked.

Becca jolted in shock, not noticing his presence. She turned round to face him with a confused look on her face. "What?"

Vince sighed. He'd been meaning to ask her ever since he'd been told about it but perhaps he'd left it too late. "Marshall. Killing him – how was it?"

Becca's breathing became more rapid. "Wh- what sort of question is that?"

"It's awful, isn't it?" He asked, "But it has to be done… for defence. You get that rush of panic, and then it's clear."

"And then you do it." Becca finished. "I didn't think. I just killed him… it was for Shel."

"He was a piece of shit," Vince said, "I wish I hadn't blacked out. I would've done it, I could've and I would've. The first time's the hardest."

Becca looked him in the eye. "Don't let there be a second time."

Vince ran his hand across his brow as he looked at the slit across Becca's left cheek. "Did he do that? The cut, I mean."

"No," Becca sighed, "It was a tree. I was running, I lost sight of Shel and I had grit in my eye. I didn't look where I was going and a branch hit me."

"It's deep." Vince stated and then shifted the subject ever so slightly. "I can't believe Miles shot that thing in Marshall's bedroom."

"I can't believe he didn't bleed out from that shoulder wound." Becca said, "Between that and what happened to Laura, I'd say he's doing pretty well."

"I could say the same for you," Vince admitted, "You've changed since the Hardware store, but I wouldn't say it was for the worse."

"Stuff's made me think. Like I said earlier, I'm having second thoughts. I should be nicer to people because you never know how much longer they'll be around for. I'm glad I was nice to Shel for those last few days, but some things I'll never be able to make right."

"Like what?" Vince asked, interested.

"Like the people who left the hardware store and Bill went to get them back. I remember saying to Shel that I wish Sarah had stayed gone, but I couldn't remember why. She annoyed me because we were the same age and she'd kept bugging me… I told her to screw off and leave me alone, but now I realise that it was because she wanted to be my _friend_. I should've given her a chance."

"Don't keep thinking about what you could have been," Vince said reassuringly, "Think about what you can be now. You won't make that mistake again."

Becca handed Vince a bottle. "This one's still in date," she said, "Can you unscrew the lid? I'm thirsty but it's on real tight and my hands are killing me."

Vince strained as he twisted the lid, but eventually gave way. He handed Becca the water and she took a hefty sip. "Thanks," she said, and then leaned so that she could see past Vince, looking for Wyatt, Annie and Miles. "I just had an idea."

"What?" Vince asked.

"Don't worry, it's… embarrassing." She admitted. "Now, let's try and find some more water instead of all this expired crap."

* * *

**Day 872 - Night**

**Wyatt**

"You guys will be fine, okay?" Wyatt said for the fifth time, catching Lucia and Daniel staring at him as he rooted around outside a store. "Stop giving me that look, it's weird."

"We would if you'd just let us not stand out here in the open. Keep the guns, fine; just let us not stand where we're easy targets." Daniel pleaded.

"You're fine; there's no one here but us. Your guns are right here." He pointed behind him, where two guns were lying on top of a crate. Annie was sitting beside them.

"What are you looking for, anyway?" Lucia asked, "Can't we just hurry up and get out of here?"

"Might find something usefulllll," Wyatt strained, annoyed by their constant questioning as Miles walked up beside him. His damaged arm was hanging to one side and he was holding a duffel bag in the other.

"Got some jackets for you guys," he said monotonously, dropping the bag to wipe his brow, "Take your pick."

"Are you feeling okay, dude?" Wyatt asked.

"Nope," Miles admitted, his eyelids fluttering, "I'm feeling pretty damn sick right now."

Wyatt rooted through his pack and lifted a tube of sorts. "I've got some antibiotics; you might want to try some of those. Check the symptoms, though, dude." He threw the pack to Miles who caught it with his good arm. "Good thing I'm left handed." The injured man muttered, and then inspected the tube. "I'm gonna go see Vince." He got up and strolled across the hall to the store Vince and Becca were in.

Wyatt watched him leave and then said to Annie, "Shall we take a look inside? I've just about finished with this lock."

"Yeah!" Annie said, oddly excitable.

Wyatt pulled the shutters up from the store, and to his disappointment, saw it was a shoe shop. "Well, shit." He groaned. "May as well look around, though; you never know when you need new shoes." He reached down and grabbed the duffel bag Miles had left with him. _"Could always get this done while we're at it," _he thought.

Entering the shop with Annie in pursuit, Wyatt kneeled down and unzipped the bag. He found a blue jacket that would work well enough, and saw a smaller one that'd probably fit Annie, so he gestured for her to come over to him as he put on his new jacket.

When he reached for the zip on her jacket, her eyes widened and she smacked his hand away, darting back and falling onto her backside. "No!" She cried.

"What's the matter?" Wyatt asked, shocked. "You're just getting a new jacket, that's all."

The seven year old held the two sides of her jacket together. "You… you can't. Please." She wailed.

Wyatt put the jacket down and lifted his left hand, showing he wasn't a threat. "I'm sorry. What's the matter? You can tell me, I'm your friend."

"No…" Annie shook her head, sniffing, "I can't tell you, I can't tell anyone. He'll kill me if I tell anyone."

"Who will kill you?" Wyatt's mind raced, "Miles? Ralph? Vince? Who?"

"No… not them. Not from now, from before."

"You're not making sense," Wyatt said, scratching his forehead, "Please tell me, I can help. What is it, who did it to you? If it's none of us, they're not here. They can't hurt you – I won't let them."

Annie sighed and looked at the ground. Slowly she unzipped her jacket and took it off. Wyatt realised that he hadn't seen her without it since they'd met.

Once Wyatt saw the jacket drop to the floor he caught a glance of Annie's forearms. "Holy shit," he exclaimed.

Her arms were littered with old scars and burns. A seven-year-old had to endure that abuse, and Wyatt couldn't stand it. He reached out to Annie, who fell into his arms, crying endlessly.

"Who did this?" He asked, patting the child's back. "Who did this to you?"

"My… my dad… got angry sometimes. My mom wasn't around, so he hit me instead. He made me wear stuff that covered my arms so no one could see when I went to school. That's why I said I don't miss him" Annie admitted, burying her head in his shoulder. "I don't want it to happen again."

"It won't," Wyatt said, "I'll protect you. You don't need to worry about your dad any more, I'm here, dude."

"You're not like my dad," Annie whispered. "You're not bad."

"I'm not." Wyatt reassured, "If you don't want anyone to know, then they won't. I won't tell them, and you can put this new jacket on so no one can see, okay?"

Annie nodded silently, but didn't let go for a couple of seconds. Eventually she released him from her embrace and put on the jacket. It broke Wyatt's heart to know that someone could do this to a child, and deciding that if Annie's dad was out there somewhere, he'd make the son of a bitch pay if he found him.

"Come on," he said warmly, picking up the duffel bag, "Let's go, there's nothing here for us."

Annie nodded but didn't reply. She began to walk slowly in the direction of the shop entrance, but froze. "Wyatt," she whispered, "There's someone out there."

Wyatt darted over, crouched next to her, and saw a masked man aiming a rifle at Daniel and Lucia, who had their arms in their air.

"Fuck, how'd he get here?" Wyatt asked.

"I don't know." Annie replied.

"It was a rhetorical question dude."

"A what?"

"Don't worry." Wyatt shuffled forwards and saw Lucia and Daniel's guns on the crate outside where he'd left them. The attacker hadn't noticed yet. Wyatt looked to his left, and saw that a congregation of walkers had followed the bandit through his presumed point of entry, but they weren't showing much interest in the living right now. Maybe if he could grab one of the guns and shoot the attacker, they'd be able to make a run for it.

He glanced around and quickly saw a face across the hallway. It seemed as if Vince, Miles, Russell, Becca and Ralph were also hiding. Vince was slowly reloading a pistol, trying not to cause any noise.

Wyatt moved forward, outside the store and behind the crate, Annie following and crouching next to him.

"Don't fuckin' move, just gimme your stuff or you're dead." The attacker threatened.

"We don't have anything," Lucia pleaded, "We came here looking for stuff. Please, there will be stuff all over this place, don't kill us if you can simply find supplies in the stores."

"Nah, man, I like movin' targets." The bandit threatened, jolting his rifle forward, "And you think I'm in a hurry to go on a shopping spree with the dead on my ass?"

Wyatt reached forward and lifted the gun in front of him, and took aim at the bandit. He saw a few of the others doing the same, but Vince was looking at the growing amount of walkers at the end of the hall. The bandit still hadn't noticed any of them apart from Daniel and Lucia, who had been standing in the centre of the hall in plain sight.

"We don't have anything," Daniel repeated, "Please, just think this through."

"Ain't nothin' to think about; you're gonna stop lying and give me what I want!" Their attacker snarled.

Wyatt raised the gun and looked down the sights, lining it up with the bandit's head. He saw Becca, Ralph and Miles aiming at the man too.

He applied pressure to the trigger and heard a shot fire. The bandit fell to the floor, a tunnel carved straight through the centre of his head. Wyatt saw the others inspecting their weapons, unsure if it had been them who'd fired. Wyatt believed that it had been him, his head spinning after learning Annie's secret.

Lucia and Daniel slouched in relief, and then walked over to Annie and Wyatt. "We didn't sell you out; can we have our guns back now?" Daniel asked angrily. Wyatt handed them both their weapons and nodded.

"Who the fuck fired?" Vince said with his eyes still on the walkers. "Whoever did it just attracted all of them!"

He was right; the walkers were gradually making their way up the corridor towards the group. "Fuck," Wyatt snarled, and then gripped Annie's hand in an attempt to pull her in the opposite direction, but he saw that walkers were gathering up there too. "Shit!" He cried.

"Through the stores!" Ralph called, gesturing for them to run in his direction. "We need to get out!"

Wyatt pulled Annie as he chased Daniel and Lucia to the others towards Ralph and Russell.

"Where's the other three?" Wyatt asked. Turning around, he saw Miles, Vince and Becca slightly further down the hall. "Don't worry about us," Vince called, "We'll get out, try and meet somewhere. Don't die."

"Don't die," Wyatt smirked, and darted into the store Ralph and Russell were located in, losing track of Miles, Becca and Vince.

* * *

**Day 872 - Night**

**Becca**

Becca followed Vince and Miles down the hallway as walkers got closer and closer. "Fuck!" Miles said, shaking and sweating as the dead closed in, "Fuck, fuck fuck fuck!" He wiped his brow and looked around for any sort of escape route.

"Calm down!" Becca ordered, "Your screaming's going to kill us!"

Miles responded by throwing up violently on the floor. "What the hell's wrong with him?" Vince yelled.

"He's ill or something," Becca replied, "I think his arm's infected or something."

"Man, my head is fuckin' swimming, man," Miles said, oddly calm. Vince looked around, racked the slide of his pistol and pointed it at a glass window. He fired, but the glass didn't shatter. He fired a few more shots at it, then grabbed Miles' shoulder and ran at the window, breaking through.

Becca followed after them into the store – a clothes store – and helped them up. Vince's face was covered with nicks and cuts from the glass, but there was nothing serious. Miles had passed through second, so didn't have to contend with the glass.

Becca grabbed a rack and swung it in front of the gap they'd made. "That should slow them down," she remarked.

"How do we get out?" Miles asked, panicked again.

"Employee door." Vince pointed out, and they ran towards it. Miles lifted his leg to kick it open, then stepped back and let Vince do it instead. "I couldn't do it at Marshall's house, I can't do it now." He smirked.

Vince slammed the door open and they ran through, finding themselves in a stockroom, and once again Becca blocked their entry point.

"Okay, okay," Vince huffed, less tense. "We're safe right now. We just need a way up."

"There's a window up there," Miles said, pointing at a thin rectangle of glass about eight feet in the air. "How convenient; leads right outside too."

"How do we get up there?" Becca asked, desperate to escape. Of all the ways she'd like to die, evisceration via walkers was not one of them.

Vince saw a crate and pushed it so it was under the window. "What're you gonna do?" Miles asked, "Create an elaborate staircase which we can use to escape?"

"Shut up," Vince ordered, and dropped his machete by his side so he could use both hands. "Becca, with me."

He stood on top of the crate and linked his hands together. "I'm gonna lift you up. You're leaving first."

Becca didn't have time to argue. She placed her boot on top of Vince's palms and reached for the ledge as he pushed up. She just about made it, and crawled into the small space that contained the window. "Try and get it open," Vince ordered, and gestured for Miles to come over to him. "What's outside?"

"There's a dumpster," Becca said, just about managing to get a look. "I can't see many walkers, but there are trees outside. We might be good."

"Can you get the window open?" Vince asked.

"No, it's locked."

"Do you want to shoot?"

"Not from this close."

Vince groaned and stepped back, "Okay, try and shuffle as far as you can to the right."

Becca did as she was instructed, sitting on the far right of the ledge. Vince lifted his gun and said, "You might want to cover your eyes."

Becca's eyes widened as she covered them with her sleeve. Vince fired and created a hole in the glass. "Try and work on smashing the rest," he said, "I'm gonna help Miles up."

As she kicked the glass, Becca noticed Miles' hand grip the side of the ledge. She stopped attacking the window for a second and grabbed his wrist to help him up. He sat on the ledge and waited for her to kick the rest of the glass out, and then ran his pistol along the edges of the rim of the window to clear any shards. "You go," Becca said, "Make sure we're safe."

Miles nodded and slid out of the window, a metallic thump signifying that he'd landed on the dumpster outside. Becca leaned over and saw Vince looking up. "Give me your hand," she said.

"Are you sure you're strong enough?" Vince asked.

"Shut up and do it." She growled.

Vince crouched down and said, "Pass this to Miles first." He handed her his machete and she looked out of the window. "Psst." She whispered. Miles looked up and accepted the machete from her.

"Okay, now you," she said, turning back to Vince. He grabbed her hand and jumped, barely getting a grip on the ledge. He pulled himself up with a great deal of strain, and then crawled out of the window, landing on the dumpster.

Becca followed suit, and landed on the now-dented metal of the dumpster. Miles was bent over, breathing aggressively, and Vince was inspecting his machete. "We're good," the latter said, "now let's hope the others made it out."

* * *

**Day 872 - Night**

**Russell**

Daniel, Annie, Wyatt, Lucia and Ralph darted through the store with Russell in tow. He hoped that Becca, Miles and Vince were okay.

Daniel and Lucia had somehow got their guns back and were pointing them back at the entrance to take out any walkers that made it through. Ralph was trying to break open a door at the back of the store, and Annie and Wyatt were simply waiting.

"Fuck, this door's locked down tight," Ralph said. "Does anyone see a way out?"

Russell looked around and saw that the store bordered on the next one along with a mere glass wall. "Though here?" He asked. "Maybe we can just run through the stores until we make it out."

Ralph tapped the glass. "That shit's thick," he remarked, and then took a few steps back. He lifted his gun and fired six shots into the partition, then kicked it. Surprisingly, it didn't shatter. Russell moved back, gripped a trolley and ran at the glass window with it, crashing through it.

Ralph ran in straight after him, followed by Wyatt and Annie, with Lucia and Daniel bringing up the rear. Another glass partition blocked their way and Lucia and Daniel had started firing at walkers which were making their way in.

Ralph fired at the next glass wall and Russell powered through it with the trolley. Once they made it into the third store Ralph checked his magazine and swore. "Fuck, I'm out."

"It's not like we'll need ammo," Russell said, staring at the thick, opaque wall that sat in front of them. "We're not doing this any more." He let go of the trolley and pushed it away.

Lucia and Daniel made it through the glass gap. "We've made some ground on them," Daniel said, "Hopefully we can find a way out before they catch up."

"Keep firing on 'em," Ralph said, "Use the bullets for that, not for this." He moved over to a door behind the store counter and began slamming against it with his shoulder. "We just need to get this fuckin' door open."

Russell hobbled over to the door and started banging against it too. It took a couple of tries before he synchronised with Ralph's attacks and they began hitting the door simultaneously.

Eventually the door started to give way and Russell and Ralph burst through it, finding a stairwell beyond.

"Cadavers coming in fast!" Lucia yelled as she and Daniel fired. Ralph and Russell waved Wyatt and Annie into the stairwell.

"Get in here!" Ralph yelled, motioning for Lucia and Daniel to fall back. They backed into the stairwell, firing as they went, and followed Annie and Wyatt down a hallway.

"You next," Ralph said to Russell. The latter hopped through the doorway, walkers within metres of them now. As Russell started to follow the other four, he looked back to see Ralph with his back to the door, reaching for the handle to shut it.

As he tugged the door, it looked as if they'd be safe for a moment, but a dead arm managed to fall into the gap and wedge the door open. Its bloody hand reached and caught hold of Ralph's hood, pulling him back. The man lurched forwards but the walker squeezed its head into the gap and sunk its teeth into the soft skin of his neck. Blood spurted down Ralph's clothes as he leaned forward and his knees buckled beneath him. The walker made its way into the hall but Ralph managed to regain himself, pin the walker to the wall with one hand and close the door as far as he could with the other.

"Fire exit!" Russell heard someone yell, "Way out!"

"Where are the others?"

Ralph looked Russell in the eye and nodded. "Go," he spluttered, and then coughed blood up over his shirt. His face and shoulder was soaked red and he'd already fallen pale.

"Come with us, there's a way out." Russell said.

"Nah, I'd rather not." Ralph grinned, "I'm… dead anyway."

Russell looked down the corridor and then back at the man who'd helped him and healed his leg.

"Funny how one moment you think you're… gonna live and then the next… you're dead." Ralph spluttered, and then growled, "GO!"

Russell limped down the corridor as the noise of walkers got louder. He made the mistake of looking back just as a walker reached over Ralph's left shoulder and gripped under his right, pulling him back as it tore into his left cheek.

The ex-scavenger continued fighting until he disappeared into the crowd, and then he was gone. No screams, no cries, no yells. Russell turned his back on the man and ran down the hallway to the point of escape.

Russell crashed through the fire exit and found the group outside. "Where's Ralph?" Wyatt asked.

"He's gone. Walkers got him." Russell sighed.

Daniel slammed the fire exit shut. "Shit," he exclaimed. "You lose folks often?"

"Not often." Russell denied, "But still too often."

Daniel walked down the steps leading from the fire exit and put his arm around Lucia's shoulder. Wyatt crouched and hugged Annie.

Russell simply scanned the horizon and said, "Let's look for the others."

The four picked up their things as Russell began to walk in a random direction, and followed his lead.

* * *

**_END OF EPISODE 3_**

**_Next Time on The Walking Dead_**

* * *

"We're almost there. The outpost isn't far now."

* * *

"This is bad. We're in trouble."

* * *

"There's only three of us and tons of them!"

* * *

"You screwed up. And now each and every one of you is gonna pay until you give me what I want."

* * *

"Never."


	25. EPISODE FOUR - BLOOD RUNS COLD

**EPISODE FOUR - BLOOD RUNS COLD**

**Day 875 - Morning**

**Vince**

Vince awoke with a jolt – like he usually did. After all that had happened over the past weeks, he had still maintained his habit of sleeping lightly.

He sat up and looked at the others. Miles was sleeping in the corner, unconsciously nursing his shoulder with his hand, and Becca was lying in the centre of the room.

It had been three days since the Eastland Mall had been overrun, and there was still no sign of Wyatt or the others. Vince hoped they had made it out, but the thought of them dying there kept creeping into the back of his mind.

His mind kept repeating the same moment; the exact second the bandit had been shot. The attacker hadn't noticed anyone except Lucia or Daniel, and they hadn't been the ones to shoot him. Whoever _had _done so had put the whole group in danger by alerting the walkers.

Vince couldn't forgive such a rash action, even if nothing had come of it. If he, Becca and Miles were the only three left, then it was the fault of the bandit's killer that the rest were dead.

However, he was still worried for all of them. He hadn't seen any sign of them for three days and he was extremely afraid that they had all perished in that mall. His little group of three had managed to find a small shed that was on the side of a main road that led towards Indianapolis – where Lucia and Daniel had told them the 'outpost' was – so if the rest came up that way they'd be able to spot them easily, but thus far they had had no such luck.

Miles stirred in his slumber and his eyes opened quickly. He made a few rushed gasps before shaking his head and snapping out of it. He had regained some health since his last spill back at the Eastland Mall but he still wasn't in perfect condition.

"What time is it?" He asked.

"You think I have a watch?" Vince replied. "Check outside if you want to know."

Miles staggered over to the door and opened it with his good arm. "I'd say that it's morning." He decided, "It's bright, but not that bright."

"Any sign of the others?" Vince asked.

"Nope," Miles replied bluntly. "You know, I don't think they're coming this way. We're better off trying to find that outpost and seeing if they're there."

"Indianapolis is a huge city and we don't even know what the outpost looks like," Vince argued, "Or if it even exists."

"I guess." Miles sighed, "But what if they don't come this way? We'll never see them again."

"They'll come this way. It's the closest main road leading into the city from the mall. It just makes sense for them to come this way." Vince was getting tired of the doubt.

Miles decided to change the subject. "How's Sleeping Beauty?" He asked sarcastically, tilting his head towards Becca.

"Sleeping." Vince replied bluntly.

"Funny." Miles groaned sarcastically. He gripped his shoulder again and tried rolling it around in its socket. "It's getting better," he said, catching Vince glancing at him with uncertainty.

"I don't doubt it," Vince said. "Getting stabbed in the shoulder is probably going to take a while to heal."

"Other things take longer," Miles said, looking back at Becca, who was still oblivious in her slumber.

"I'm surprised she can even sleep after what happened to Shel." Vince said. He was still worried about her.

"I'm more worried about what Marshall did to _her_." Miles said. "She told me a lot when she found me by the truck, but I'm worried she left something out."

"I don't think there would have been time for him too…" Vince's voice trailed off as he winced at the thought of Marshall doing _anything _to Becca.

"We have to look after her." Miles said, "For Shel."

"What do you mean?" Vince asked, not sure he was getting the full picture.

"Shel practically died for Becca. We should honour that and make sure she lives."

"Aren't we doing that already?" Vince questioned.

Miles shook his head. "I'm serious. We don't let her out of our sight. We make sure she lives, fuck, we take a bullet for her if we have to."

"But if we both die for her, who will protect her then?" Vince asked.

"I can take care of myself," Becca said aggressively, sitting up with a concerned look on her face. "Now quit talking about me as if I'm not here. Quit talking about Shel, because she's _not _here."

"I'm sorry, Becca, we just…" Miles said, reaching out to her.

"_You _should understand. You went through it too, with Laura."

Miles looked at the ground, "Please don't bring that up."

"We just want to look out for you," Vince said, "It's not because of your age, it's because we're worried about you after all that's happened."

Becca looked at the ground and pulled her knees into her chest. "Just… leave me alone. Don't talk about it. Or me."

Vince looked at Miles, then Becca. "That went well," he thought to himself. "We should do this more often."

Not looking forward to spending another three days in a shed with a sulking, injured man and a grieving teenager, Vince made a decision. "Miles, I'm taking you up on that offer. We're going out on the road to see if we can find the others. Come on, Becca."

Becca got to her feet, still avoiding eye contact, put her hands in her pockets and started kicking at the concrete floor. Miles walked to the corner of the room and pulled a crate into the centre. "I've been meaning to see what's in here." He said.

"Need a hand?" Vince asked, moving towards the crate.

"Yeah, your machete and your two working arms would be great." Miles said.

Vince found a loose part of the crate and pushed his metal weapon into the gap. Pushing down, he wrenched a board loose and opened the crate.

"Tools." Miles sighed, disheartened.

"No, this could be useful." Vince said, and then beckoned Becca over. "Come here."

The teenager stood beside him and he handed her an axe. "Is that heavy?" He asked.

"Yeah, kind of." Becca replied, no emotion in her voice. Vince presumed she was still raw from arguing and being reminded of what happened to Shel. He handed her a framing hammer and said, "Is that any better?"

"Yeah," Becca sighed. "Why do I need this?"

Vince looked at her while Miles picked up the axe. "Because I trust you; you said you can take care of yourself, now you can prove it. You killed Marshall, you killed a terrible person, so I can trust you to function as an adult, like Miles or I."

Becca perked up slightly and nodded. "Okay."

"Uh, guys, we have a problem." Miles was standing by the door. He slammed it closed and put his entire body up against it. "Fuck."

"What is it?" Vince said. Becca ran up to the other door and swore to herself. "Every time. They always come out of nowhere."

"What do?" Vince asked, "What's going on?"

"You're lucky we found those tools. There are tons of them." Miles said.

"Tons of what?" Vince was getting frustrated.

Miles gulped, "Walkers."


	26. The Long Trek

**Day 875 - Morning**

**Russell**

"Any sign of the others?" Wyatt asked.

"Still nothing." Russell called back. After the events of the Eastland Mall they had found their way onto a main road and had been slowly making their way to Indianapolis, hoping for any sign of Becca, Vince and Miles. Each day they would find a new house to camp out in at the side of the road and they'd leave again in the morning, only making it a few hundred metres before they had to hide once again.

Russell was looking out on the road from a first-floor window, with Wyatt in another room nearby which Annie was sleeping in. Lucia and Daniel were downstairs, counting supplies.

Russell turned away from the window and walked out of the room – a child's bedroom, presumably a boy's – and found Wyatt in the other bedroom. The bearded man was sitting on the side of the bed as the seven-year-old slept on it.

"You can leave her on her own for a bit, you know," Russell said, "She'll be fine."

Wyatt sighed, "I don't think I can, man. I told her I'd protect her and leaving her for any amount of time feels wrong."

Russell sat on the bed next to him. "I had a big family. Older brothers, younger sisters, tons of aunts and uncles; we all lived in the same city, too; Statesboro. One time, I was babysitting one of my sisters while the rest all went to a baseball game – I was studying for my finals, my sister wasn't interested in sports. I was supposed to be looking after her, but I was concentrating so hard on studying that I didn't realise hours had passed and I hadn't made her dinner or anythin'. So, I go downstairs and what do ya know, she's made it all herself and done some for me, too." He chuckled, "You don't give kids enough credit, Wyatt. Give her long enough, and she'll be lookin' after you like my sister did for me."

Wyatt smirked. "I guess I can leave her for a while, we've scoped this house enough times to know there aren't any walkers."

Russell nodded. "It'll only be for about ten minutes, she won't even know you're gone."

The duo stood up and walked out of the room. As Wyatt closed the door behind himself, he spoke once more. "You know, dude, I never wanted kids. Like, ever. But I look at Annie, and she's a pretty cool kid. I just can't let what happened to Eddie or Laura or Shel happen to her, too."

"Once we get to that outpost, I don't think we'll have to worry." Russell said. "These places can't all be the same as Carver's."

"I guess so," Wyatt said. "Let's see what the other two are up to."

They walked down the stairs and saw Daniel and Lucia shoulder-to-shoulder as they counted the supplies. Russell was aware of their relationship status, and it made him sad in a way, because he knew it probably couldn't last.

Lucia looked up and said, "We're almost there, the outpost isn't far now."

"We just need to get a couple more miles under our belts and then we're on the home stretch." Daniel added.

"So you've been saying for the past three days," Russell said. "How long is it going to take? Three more days? What about Vince and the others?"

"If we don't find them on the way, we can always gather more people from the outpost and start a larger search." Lucia offered.

"Can we?" Daniel asked, "Are there going to be enough people up there to do that? It's only an outpost for people on their way elsewhere; we know it'll be secure, but will there even be people there?"

"We can't be sure," Lucia admitted, "Let's just focus on getting there, setting up and then coming back for the others."

Russell wasn't keen on the plan, but it was more logical to stock up and then go looking for the others instead of running blindly into them. "Okay, it's a plan. But we _will _look for the others."

Lucia nodded, "Of course. None of you tried to kill us, it's the least we can do."

"Well… we did tell them about the outpost." Daniel muttered, but turned his attention to Wyatt and Russell, "But I guess you guys are okay. We never really spoke to the other three, but if they're with you guys they can't be too bad."

"What _are_ they like, anyway?" Lucia asked.

Wyatt shrugged, "Vince is cool, if a bit harsh. Miles is a little bit argumentative but his friend got killed not two weeks ago, Becca's mellowed out a bit after bad shit happened to her."

"Bad shit?" Lucia pondered.

"Her sister got shot dead and some sick old man almost tried to have his way with her."

"Judas Priest." Daniel gasped.

"Are you serious?" Lucia asked, "Because that's not a funny thing to joke about."

"Not joking, dude." Wyatt said, "It happened a while back. We all got split up, Ralph reunited us, and then we found our way to this state."

"Where were you before?" Lucia questioned.

"Tennessee. We came from a settlement."

"Why'd you leave?" Daniel asked, "I guess if the outpost doesn't work out we can always head back there."

"No, we can't." Russell said bluntly. "It was overrun and the leader's dead. Everyone there is dead. Only a handful managed to escape; our group, and the bunch that caused the whole collapse."

"Assholes." Wyatt spat. "Fucking it up for everyone."

Lucia stood up. "Well, we've finished counting the supplies. It's still morning, so shall we wake up Annie and get going?"

"May as well," Russell said, "But promise you'll keep an eye out for the others."

"We promise, we promise. Jeez." Daniel said, "Quit pushing it, we already said we would." He grabbed the peak of his cap and straightened it up before scratching his stubbly beard. "Now come on, we need to get moving."

On that note, the group started retrieving their things to prepare for the long trek to the outpost.


	27. Dancing With Death

**Day 875 - Morning**

**Vince**

"What the fuck do we do?" Miles yelled, pressing his back against the wooden door. "They probably know we're here."

"We can't stay here." Vince growled, lifting his machete off of a crate. "We're gonna have to fight out way out."

"FIGHT?!" Miles yelled, "I've got an injured arm, there's only three of us and there's _**fucking tons of them!**_"

"We don't have any other option!" Vince grimaced, "We're in a fucking wooden shed! If the walkers are coming from the other side of the road we might be able to get through some of them and get around the back of this building."

Miles sighed, "I guess. Well, we ain't staying here."

The roaring and groaning of walkers got ever closer as Vince lifted his machete and looked at his companions. Becca lifted her hammer and Miles reached for his axe. "Ready?" he asked.

Miles nodded and looked at him. "I'll go first. Becca, stay in between us, you'll stand a better chance that way. Vince, you bring up the rear."

He didn't give them chance to complain or argue as he pulled the door back and slammed his weapon into the nearest walker's skull. Pulling it out he slipped back slightly and then yelled, charging into the sea of dead. Vince looked at Becca, but she didn't return the glance, already running after Miles. Vince brought up the rear and saw Becca duck and slide under the walkers rather than attempting to attack them.

It was like trying to reach the front of the crowd at a concert, only without the cheering or the loud breathing. All Vince could hear was the groaning and wheezing of walkers, combined with the grunts and efforts of Miles and Becca ahead of him.

The walkers were sparse, but there were many of them. It was hard enough to keep them at bay as they all lunged for him. He slid his machete into one brain only to catch a glance of a walker attempting to grip his wrist seconds after.

Vince felt something clasp his ankle and tug. He twisted and slashed at it, killing a walker that had been centimetres away from biting his ankle. Another walker lunged for his forearm, so he pushed it back and sliced another member of the dead behind him. As he twisted, he caught a glimpse of Becca beating back a walker with her hammer. Past her, there was no sign of Miles.

Their little shed was about twenty five metres away now, but the walkers were spread out far enough that he could've made a run for it if he had to.

But no, that wasn't Vince. He was going to stick with his friends, not hide. Though it may have been logical, it was abandoning his allies.

Vince sliced at walker heads, edging closer and closer to Becca. He had to be careful not to mistake her for a walker and accidentally slice at her. Maybe getting closer to her had been a bad idea.

Vince dodged a walker that was biting for his neck and quickly dispatched it with his blade. Another lurker came for him and another after that. They'd cleared a metre's worth of space around them, but the dead kept on coming.

"We need a plan!" Vince yelled, "We should be dead right now, but we need a plan!"

Becca looked back at the shed as she slammed her framing hammer into another walker. "There are barrels; can we get on the roof?" She screamed back.

"It's worth a try!" Vince cried as he sliced at another walker, snapping its jaw but not killing it. A second slice did the trick. "Get my back!"

The two ran for the shed, cutting down whatever got in their way. They were having absurdly good luck, but they couldn't speak for miles. That was, until he was pushed directly in front of them by a walker that was tackling him.

"Miles!" Becca yelled in astonishment, slamming her hammer into the temple of the walker that was grappling him. Its hands fell free and so did Miles, who picked up his axe and quickly fell into position behind them, not even asking what the plan was.

Vince ran for the barrel beside the shed, but didn't climb onto it. "Miles, get me!" He yelled, as he sliced at a walker. Miles moved into formation in front of him, defending both Vince and Becca from the walkers as he attacked them brutally with his weapon.

"Becca, get up there." Vince ordered, linking his hands together. "Come on, quickly."

Becca didn't argue. She put her boot into his palms and he pushed her upwards, feeling a lack of weight as she climbed onto the roof. Vince looked at Miles and then looked back at the shed, putting his foot onto the barrel and gripping the roof. Becca grabbed his wrist as he put his machete-wielding hand onto the platform. As he made it up he span around and put both arms down. "Miles, come on!"

Without hesitation, Miles turned around and threw his hands into Vince's. He jumped onto the barrel, giving himself some leverage and launched himself upwards onto the roof, tipping the barrel as he did so.

The trio stood on the roof of the little wooden shed, looking at the shambling corpses that converged on them. There was a pile of fully dead, non-functioning walkers in the distance that they had killed, but Vince's attention was drawn by something else.

"Wrists and necks." He said.

"What?" Miles asked.

"Show 'em. We need to know if any of us got bit." He felt around his neck and throat, and then pulled up his sleeves to check his wrists. "I'm good."

Becca stood up and leaned her head to the left and then the right, before baring her wrists. "I'm good too, right?"

"You're fine." Vince confirmed, and then looked at Miles. The man was feeling his wrists as well. "I think I'm good, someone check my neck for me."

Vince inspected the back of his friend's throat. "It's a miracle. We all made it out in one piece."

"Well, fuck me." Miles sighed in relief. "You think we can just wait them out or..?"

His words were cut off by an unwelcome wooden creak as the walkers pounded on the sides of the shed. "Shit!" He cried.

"They're gonna break this place down!" Vince growled. "I thought we'd be safe up here."

"It seemed like a good plan at the time." Becca said in a worried tone. "Oh, no."

The wood creaked once again. "Shit," Vince said, and then pointed to the field behind the shed. "Maybe we can jump down and make a run for it. There's only a few walkers behind this thing and we can outrun them."

"Not exactly a good plan," Miles said, "But it's all we got."

Vince shuffled towards the edge of the roof. "Not far down." He admitted. "On three. One… two… three!"

They ran towards the edge of the roof and leapt. Miles landed around three feet in front of Vince and slowly got up. Vince pushed himself to his feet and gripped his weapon tightly.

"Agh!" He heard a scream behind him.

"BECCA!" He yelled, turning around. Becca had fallen short and in an attempt to right herself, she hadn't noticed a walker shambling behind her. She was nursing her ankle, which Vince presumed was sprained or worse. "Becca, look out!"

Becca lifted her right arm – which contained her hammer – and turned sharply. Her wrist collided with the walker's skull as she turned one hundred and eighty degrees, but she didn't succeed in killing it. As Vince and Miles ran to her aid, the walker swung back around and its mouth caught the side of her hand.

It bit down - hard.

Becca screamed in pain as Miles slammed his axe into the walker's skull and prised her hands from the death grip of its mouth.

Miles turned around with a shocked look on his face as Vince grabbed Becca, putting one arm under her back and the other under her knees. He put her arm around his neck and turned to run into the fields along with Miles.

"No… no…" Becca sobbed quietly. "This can't… I can't be…"

"You're gonna be okay, Becca," Vince said soothingly. "We're gonna… we're gonna get you out of here and you'll be fine. We'll cure you or something. We'll do whatever it takes."

"It… hurts."

"I know it does, but we'll fix this, I swear." Vince sighed. Becca closed her eyes and continued to sob as Miles led Vince into the fields beyond.

"_I swore I'd protect her."_ Vince thought. _"This was my stupid fucking plan. It's my fault."_


	28. Blood On Hands

**Day 875 - Morning**

**Vince**

"Miles, stop." Vince commanded. "We need to solve this _now_." They had been running for a total of five seconds before Vince had halted them. "Just… keep any walkers that come down here off of me."

"What are you going to do?" Miles asked as he looked up at the hill. The walkers were still milling around the shed and the road up there, none of them really paying attention to the three living beings.

Vince looked at Becca, and then looked at his surroundings. She was hanging in his arms, no longer sobbing, but her eyes were still closed and she was shaking. "Fuck…" he sighed. He checked the horizon again and noticed a tree stump. "That'll do." He decided.

He ran down to the stump and sat Becca on top of it. "Wait here," he said, and then called to Miles. "Get down here!" Miles turned, not questioning him, and joined them by the stump. "What are we doing?" He asked, hoping for instructions.

"I'm not sure," Vince admitted, "It's been like, fifteen seconds. Do you think it's in her bloodstream or what?"

"I hope not, what can we do about it?" Miles questioned.

"We can… remove the point where she got bitten, I guess." Vince said. "It's a long shot but it might save her."

"What?! No!" Miles growled, and then calmed down. "Do you… do you think it's worth a try?"

"It's all we got." Vince sighed. Becca wasn't listening. She was sitting on the tree stump with her arms wrapped around her. "Becca? Becca!" Vince asked harshly. "Are you there?"

In response, Becca made eye contact with him temporarily and quickly looked away again.

"What are we gonna do it with?" Miles asked. "We can't just do it with something we were just killing walkers with."

"Maybe we can disinfect my machete or something." Vince asked. "We need to be really sure about this."

Becca was gripping her right hand tightly when Vince touched her shoulder. "You're gonna be fine, okay? We're gonna save you, no matter what."

Becca nodded silently, but it didn't seem like she believed his words.

An idea came into Vince's head. He went around the back of the stump and looked at the rucksack on Becca's back and unzipped it. "Yes!" He sighed, pulling out a water bottle. "Okay."

He unscrewed the lid – the same bottle Becca had asked him to open in the Eastland Mall – and poured the water onto his blade. It washed off almost all of the blood and gore, but a stain remained. Vince wondered what else he could use to get the stuff off of his machete, but Miles walked to his side and handed him a lighter. "It's Ralph's." He admitted. "He gave me it when we found some cigarettes in the mall. They were expired so I kept the lighter in revenge."

Vince nodded, not that interested in the story at that moment, and flicked the lighter on. He held it to his blade until it started to glow a little, and then put the lighter down. Miles turned Becca around so she was facing the stump rather than sitting on the edge of it. Vince took off his jacket and laid it on the stump, and Miles placed Becca's hand on a clean patch. Miles looked at Becca and grabbed her safe hand in support. "You'll be fine," he said.

"Wait, what are you doing?" She asked.

"Becca…" Vince said, lifting his machete. "Remember outside the hardware store when that walker tackled me and you killed it before it bit me? You said I owed you. Well, now we're gonna be square."

Becca's eyes darted from the machete to her hand. "What are you…?" Realisation hit her. "No. No, no no! No! You can't!"

Miles grimaced and pinned her arm on top of the stump. "It's for your own good," he said through gritted teeth. Vince levelled his machete with her hand and lifted it back up again. "On three," he said, as Becca struggled to get free, whimpering. "No, no, please don't!" She cried.

"One…" Vince said. He looked at Miles, who returned the glance, his face pale with fear.

"Two…" Vince looked at the blade. It was only glowing slightly now, but from what he could tell it was clean.

"Three!" He yelled, and thrust his weapon downwards.

* * *

**Day 875**

**Becca**

The sky was dark. Nothing could be seen.

Maybe she just had her eyes closed.

She opened her eyes. She was lying down. The sky was actually orange, but it faded into purple the further she looked up. It was quite magical. She couldn't hear anything.

The last thing she remembered was being on the roof with the other two; the Asian man and the tall, blonde-haired one. It took her a second to remember their names; Vince and Miles.

What the fuck had happened? Why had she fallen asleep all of a sudden, and why was she lying on Vince's jacket in the middle of a field?

She rolled to her right and screamed in pain. Tears rushed to her eyes and streamed down her face. Why did her hand hurt so much?

Instantly everything came rushing back; she remembered jumping off of the roof, landing awkwardly, twisting her ankle and Vince yelling for her to look out. She recalled how she'd overshot the walker's head when trying to hit it and how it had come back to bite her – literally.

She remembered crying as Vince carried her down the hill; she was bitten, crying about that was justified. Her life was over. Was she dead?

A figure crouched over her. They spoke, but it sounded like they were underwater. Their words repeated over and over again, distorted.

"_Are you okay? Are you okay? Are you okay? Are you okay? Are you okay? Are you okay?"_

Another figure crouched beside her. _"We're here. We're here. We're here. We're here. We're here."_

She tried to reply. "I'm… I'm…"

"She's saying something!" One man said.

"Shut up, let her talk." The other one said harshly.

"I'm… I'm hurt." Becca said. "My hand aches."

One man scratched his head. "Uh… about that…"

"Is Shel here?" Becca asked, "Shel?" She called out.

"Oh, god." The first man said, "What the hell have we done?"

"Give her time; she just needs to get her head together." The other said.

Becca started stuttering again. It was too hard to get a single word out. One of the men crossed over to her left side and held her left hand. "You're okay, Becca." He said. "You're fine."

"She doesn't look fine." The other man argued, "She's pale, her skin's dark around her eyes; did we even do it right? Did we cut enough off?"

"We can't be sure," the first man said. Becca was fairly sure this was Vince. "We did all we could, and it's too late to do any more."

"Vince…" Becca sighed in relief. Memories were flooding back now. Stuff about a shopping mall… Wyatt… Russell… Annie… those two others… the smoke-covered scavenger – what was his name?

Then it hit her like a ton of bricks when she remembered Shel and what happened to her. It hit her like it did when she saw it the first time. "No… Shel…"

"See, she's remembering," Vince said, "I wish she wasn't remembering _that_, but it looks like she's getting better."

Becca looked at Vince again. He looked back and asked, "Do you… want to try sitting up?"

"Don't rush her!" The other man – Miles, presumably – growled.

"We need to get out of here, walkers will pass through soon." Vince sighed.

"So carry her." Miles whispered. "I know we need to go but… I'm just… worried."

"You think I'm not? I'm still wondering what the fuck I did to her." Vince grimaced.

That was an unwelcome and vague statement just as Becca was thinking about Shel and Marshall. "What did you… do to me?" She growled. "Did you… hurt… me?"

"No, Becca," Vince said, leaning back, "We helped you. You were bitten… we tried to save you and I think it worked. Just… look at your hand. Please."

Becca looked at her left hand. Vince was still holding it tightly. "No, not that hand." Miles sighed, "…the other one."

"_Oh, right, the one that hurt when I turned over,"_ Becca thought to herself. She could barely move, but she looked down her chest and lifted her right arm. Her breathing became rapid and harsh as she saw an unwelcome sight. "What did you do…?" She moaned, "What did you do to me?"

"You were bitten." Vince repeated, "We had to do something, we tried to save you!"

"No, no, no, no, no, no, this can't be real, please don't let this be real." Becca wailed as she looked at her hand again.

"Sorry… but… that's the truth," Miles said, "It _is_ real. I'm sorry."

Becca looked at her hand and started stuttering again. Tears streamed down her face, out of fear more than pain. Her hand was wrapped in a bandage, but it was significantly… thinner than she remembered. From what she could work out she still had her thumb, index and middle fingers, but everything beyond that point was gone. She had half a hand, and that was her good arm.

"If we could've done anything else, we would've," Miles said, scratching his head, "I'm sorry, but this was all we could do in such a short amount of time. The walker only caught the very edge of your hand. We took off as little as we could."

Becca continued her surge of rapid breathing as his words continued. It was too much for her to handle. Her head wasn't working right. She couldn't figure out what the hell was going on, it was all too much for a space of five minutes.

Before she could do anything, her eyelids fluttered and the corners of her vision started to fade. Her breathing slowed down, and then everything went black.


	29. Ahead Of Time

**Day 875 - Evening**

**Wyatt**

The group hadn't gotten far. They'd left the house towards eleven o'clock, they'd stopped at midday to scavenge for about two hours and it was now about five o'clock. The sky had turned a purplish-orange hue, and everyone was already tired.

"The city's on the horizon." Lucia remarked, and she was correct. In the distance Wyatt could see the blurred skyline of Indianapolis, where the fabled outpost was situated. He looked down at Annie, who returned his glance and smiled.

"Shit, we've got cadavers up ahead." Daniel said, alerting the group to a thin crowd of walkers about two hundred metres away. "Maybe we can go around them?"

Lucia shook her head. "It'll take too long to go around, and if the others are ahead of us we'll never catch up."

Russell scratched the back of his head. "There's only one every three or so metres. Maybe we can just push through really quickly?"

"If only I still had my truck…" Daniel sighed, and then looked at Lucia. "Remember the truck?"

"Of course I remember the truck." Lucia said bluntly. "It never worked and you could barely spend an hour away from it."

"I used to deliver packages and stuff," Daniel explained to no one in particular. "That's how we met. I was delivering some stuff to Lucia's hospital. We caught sight of each other, I fired off one of my legendary pick-up lines and she fell for me instantly."

Lucia put her index finger and her thumb to her forehead and rubbed it in frustration. "That's not how it happened."

"You couldn't get enough of it," Daniel grinned, and then looked ahead at the walkers. "What are we gonna do about this?"

Wyatt sighed, "I guess we can try and get to a point where they've thinned out and make a break for it."

"Seems like our best choice." Russell agreed.

"Keep your guns out," Lucia said, raising her pistol and pointing it at the nearest walkers. "Don't hesitate if they notice you. We're going towards the left side of the road, okay?" She held up her weapon and led the group to the side of the road. Daniel followed quickly after her, with Wyatt and Annie in the middle and Russell bringing up the rear – his leg was almost healed, but it still slowed him down a little.

The side of the road was littered with brush which they had to push through, making a little noise. The shuffling of their feet through the bush startled one of the walkers, who turned towards the group, gurgling. Everyone froze in place and exchanged glances, but the walker turned away and staggered off.

"Take it slow," Wyatt whispered, and all five of them shuffled through the bushes slowly to minimise the sounds they would create. Lucia and Daniel escaped the undergrowth first, followed by Wyatt and Annie, with Russell once again bringing up the rear.

Once everyone was clear, they quickly made their way down a grassy hill, their footsteps muffled by the plantlife as they stepped on it.

"Huh, there weren't as many to the side of the road as I expected." Russell admitted.

"We'll have to stick close to the side of the road if we want to get anywhere quickly, so keep an eye out for any more of the dead." Lucia instructed.

The four adults withdrew their guns and held them up as they slowly walked along the field, keeping the hill and the road to their right. Wyatt looked out to their left for any signs of life – or death – out there, while the rest looked up at the hill and the walkers that were staggering around up there. So far none of them had noticed the group.

A couple of minutes later, Wyatt felt something tug his sleeve. He looked down and saw Annie was responsible, and returned to scanning the area. "What is it, dude?" He asked with a slight hint of tension in his voice.

"Um… I need to go to the bathroom." Annie replied.

Wyatt sighed, "Hold up," he said to the group, "Annie's gotta take a leak."

The other three adults turned around. Daniel groaned and scratched the back of his head and Russell lowered his gun and checked their surroundings once again. Lucia was the only one who seemed to do anything. "There's a tree over there," she said, but Annie groaned in disappointment.

"Why don't you take her?" Wyatt groaned, scratching his beard. "It'll be… less… weird. Because… y'know… you're… female..?"

Lucia replied with a confused glance and then led Annie over to a small cluster of trees and bushes. Even though they disappeared once they got far enough in, Daniel, Wyatt and Russell all turned their backs on the trees awkwardly.

"Well, this is odd." Daniel remarked.

"Uh-huh." Wyatt agreed.

"You see, this is why I was worried about having kids before everything went to shit." Daniel said. "Doing the whole piss and shit deal - especially right after they're born. Lucia would've been at the hospital and I would've been stuck at home with a broken truck and baby-poop-fountain."

"You're one weird man, you know that?" Russell asked.

"You'll grow to like it. Everyone does." Daniel smirked.

Lucia's voice called to them from the trees, "We're done; you can come over here."

"Why can't she come back here?" Daniel sighed.

"That'd be counter-productive," Wyatt said, "We're going their way anyway, what's the point in forcing those two to come back here and then walk over there again?"

"I guess." Daniel groaned. The three walked into the cluster of trees and found Annie and Lucia standing there quite comfortably. "Come on," Lucia said, "Let's get going."

They were walking for about ten seconds before they heard hushed talking.

"We have to get out of here!" One voice said, "Pick her up."

"Maybe we can find that settlement. Maybe the others will be there by now. We've been slow; they're probably ahead by now." Another voice came.

"Is that…?" Daniel asked in a soft tone.

"I think so…" Lucia agreed. "I'll move forward a bit." There was a rustling of leaves as she moved further into the trees and bushes which ceased a few seconds after. "Holy shit." She said. "Guys, come on."

Wyatt followed the others as they freed themselves of the plantlife and stood up, re-emerging in another field. Ahead of them, two figures were standing, and one of them was holding another figure – what looked like a body.

It took a few seconds, but one of them noticed their group. Wyatt made eye contact with the man, whose eyes widened and he smiled in joy, but his happiness quickly ceased as he looked at his ally.

"Miles! Vince!" Wyatt called, walking briskly towards them with a stupid grin on his face. "I thought we'd never see you guys again – how in the hell do we keep finding each other like this…?"

Miles silenced him as he looked at the figure Vince was cradling in his arms. "Wyatt, stop. Just… we have a problem."

Wyatt looked at Vince, who held Becca. Her body was limp, her left arm hanging loose with her right crossed over her chest. Her skin was pale, except for that around her eyes which was a purplish colour.

Wyatt fell to his knees as Russell, Lucia, Daniel and Annie halted behind him. "Oh, god," he sighed, "Is she… y'know… gone?"

"I don't know," Miles admitted, "She woke up a while ago. Then she blacked out again."

"What happened?" Russell asked with his eyes closed in frustration.

"The walkers up there," Miles pointed up the hill. "One of them bit her… we… removed the bite."

"Removed?" Lucia asked, confused.

"We cut off the affected area." Miles admitted. "It seemed like it'd work."

"Holy shit, I didn't even think of that." Lucia said. "Lie her down, let me get a look at her – I'm a nurse, after…"

Her words were interrupted by Vince. "Fuck! She isn't breathing!" He was shaking, unsure what to do.

"Lie her down!" Lucia cried, "Let me do what I have to!"

Vince turned and handed Becca to Miles, and then pulled his jacket off and laid it on the ground. "Put her down here." He said. Miles put Becca onto the jacket and then looked at Lucia. "Do what you have to," he said, "Just save her."

Lucia nodded and kneeled down beside Becca. "I'm not sure how long she'll last in this cold. I'll try and get her breathing again but we _need _to get to that settlement if we expect her to last long term."

"Just do something _now!" _Miles growled, "We'll worry about that when she's breathing again!"

Lucia nodded one more, drew in a big gasp of air, and then said, "Okay. Let's try CPR."


	30. The Calm Before

**Day 875 - Evening**

**Russell**

Lucia was attempting to resuscitate Becca using mouth-to-mouth CPR. She'd stopped breathing, so it made sense to get her breathing again. Vince had his hand laid on her chest. "Her heart's still beating." He said, "We can still get her back. Don't give up yet."

They'd been going for about a minute. Lucia kept lifting her head to inhale more air which she poured into Becca's lungs. Daniel, Wyatt, and Annie were standing to the side, next to Russell, scanning for walkers, while Miles was crouched at Becca's side, not doing much at all.

It was a tense sixty seconds or so. There was no sound except for Vince providing updates to no one in particular and Lucia gasping for air.

Russell paced slightly closer to Becca's unconscious form, and watched Lucia and Vince silently. After a few seconds he was caught by surprise when Lucia fell back slightly. Becca's eyes shot open and she erupted into a chain of coughs and splutters.

"Becca!" Vince cried in surprise, pulling her towards him.

"Let her down," Lucia said, standing up, "You don't want to constrict her while she isn't breathing too well."

Vince let Becca back gently. "Try and get some rest," he said, "You'll need your strength."

Daniel smiled at Lucia and pulled her into a tight embrace. "You did really well," he sighed, "not that I can judge or anything."

"You saved her." Russell nodded in approval and crossed his arms. He looked over to Wyatt, who was kneeling in front of Annie with his hand on her shoulder. It seemed like they were having a hushed, private discussion as they kept looking at the other members of their group. Given the tense situation, Russell decided that it wasn't worth intervening. He'd ask later. Instead, he kneeled down on the cold grass and lifted the leg of his pants. His shin had scabbed over and it was horribly bruised, but it felt a lot better and he was almost walking normally again.

"How are _you _feeling?" Someone asked him. Russell looked up and noticed Lucia standing over him. "I thought I may as well do the rounds. I'll check on Vince's head next. From what I hear he took some nasty bumps a week or so ago."

"I'm fine," Russell said, "It's taken a while to heal but I can almost walk well again."

"That's good to hear. It doesn't look pretty, but it'll be better soon. Just don't put too much strain on it, okay? No standing on one leg, and try not to fall on it if you can afford to."

"That sounds fair." Russell nodded.

Lucia stood up, held her gaze for a second, and then moved back over towards Vince, Becca and Miles, pulling up the hood of her sweatshirt as she did so. She turned back to Russell and said, "Actually, you can help me with something to do with Becca."

Russell stood up. "Why me?" He asked.

"Because Vince and Miles are kind of wrecks right now, Daniel's useless and Wyatt has Annie to worry about."

Russell shrugged. "Just tell me what to do."

Lucia led him over to Becca and looked at Miles and Vince. "Can you two give us some space?" She asked politely. Vince nodded and stood up, but had to grab Miles' shoulder and pull slightly to encourage him to leave.

As Vince and Miles left, Lucia knelt by Becca's right side and looked at her injured hand. It was covered in a bandage that was stained red and was dripping with blood.

"I want to see if they stitched this or anything – I want to see what the damage is." Lucia said, describing what she intended to do. "I just need you to hold her arm still."

Russell put one hand under Becca's wrist and the other further up her forearm. He held the arm still as Lucia unravelled the makeshift bandage from her hand and put it to one side.

"She's been bleeding the whole time." She remarked, "They left the wound open."

"That explains why she's so pale." Russell suggested.

"We need to get this closed before she loses any more blood." Lucia said, and then called out to the rest. "Does anyone have anything we can close this wound with? We also need water and something to use as a bandage."

Vince opened a backpack that sat against a tree stump and raised a water bottle. "I also have a lighter in here, do you think you could seal the wound shut with that?"

"It's an option, but I'd prefer to stitch it. If we have nothing else to use then we'll have to cauterise it."

Vince nodded and gave her the lighter anyway. Wyatt kneeled down and said, "We have a few more jackets in here. Will some of the softer ones do for bandages?"

"That'll be good enough," Lucia said. "They're clean, right?"

"As clean as things can get in this world." Wyatt admitted. "Probably the best we have."

"Okay, Vince, if you can use your knife or your machete to cut one of those jackets down then that will be great." Lucia instructed. "Russell, hold her arm still."

Russell didn't argue even though he was doing his best. Daniel spoke up from a few metres away. "I've checked the supplies; we don't have anything we can use as stitches."

Lucia exhaled in disappointment. "Well, then," she groaned, "I guess we'll have to cauterise."

Vince started tearing one of the jackets apart as Lucia poured the water over Becca's injury to clear most of the stained blood off, and then flicked the lighter and her face was illuminated slightly by a bright orange light. She looked at Becca's hand – it was mostly intact, apart from the two outermost fingers and half of the main portion of the hand. As far as Russell could tell, it was a clear enough cut with no bones sticking out. She lifted the lighter and held it to Becca's wound, creating blistered skin that prevented any more blood loss. The air was filled with the strong aroma of burning flesh which made most of the group wince in a mix of pain and empathy or simply a dislike of the scent.

Once it was done, Vince handed Lucia a strip of fabric which she wrapped around the wound several times. "Anyone have something to hold this in place with?" She asked the group.

There was a murmur of disappointing replies. Lucia sighed and resorted to tucking the bandage in where there was a fold in the fabric. "Hopefully that'll hold." She said.

Daniel walked up behind Lucia. "How's she doing?" he asked.

"Kid's missing half a hand and she's suffering from blood loss, but if they cut it off in time, cut _enough _off and she didn't get infected then she'll live."

"Come on, doc." Daniel said, "You look like you could use some food. You, too, kid." He looked at Russell. "In fact, we all could."

"I think Becca needs it most." Russell sighed. "I'll sit this one out if that means she can have more. We don't have a whole lot of supplies left and with the state she's in she'll need it more than I will."

"We should probably draw up some sort of priority list for supplies." Lucia said, and then called all the others over. "We were just discussing what to do with our food and water." She said, "As in, how we separate it between us. If we split it evenly then we won't have enough each."

"How are we gonna do this, then?" Vince asked. "You sound like you already have an idea."

"Well, I was thinking we prioritise Annie and Becca first, when the latter wakes up. Annie's only a kid and Becca's injured; it'd be cruel to deprive either of them."

"Who after that?" Vince asked.

"You, Miles and Russell are all somewhat injured. Not to Becca's extent, but you still have a slightly damaged head, Miles has his arm and Russell has his shin. That leaves Daniel, Wyatt and I as the least prioritised. I'm not happy about that, but it's the way it's got to be."

"What do you say about moving Becca?" Wyatt said, "We can't sleep with those walkers up there on the road, and the settlement is probably too far off to reach if we carry her. Shall we try and find somewhere safe or shall we wait until she wakes up?"

"I'd advise that we waited for her to wake up," Lucia said, "but with the dead lurking around it's probably better if we try and find somewhere safer, but someone needs to carry Becca." She looked at the group. "Miles' arm won't support her, Russell's leg would buckle underneath the weight, Annie certainly can't carry her, and that leaves Vince, myself, Daniel and Wyatt."

"I'll do it." Vince offered, kneeling down to pick up Becca's unconscious body.

"Are you sure?" Wyatt asked, "I'll switch out if it's too much for you."

"Don't worry." Vince said, straining as he lifted the weight of a fifteen-year-old. "I'll be fine; let's just go."

"If you're sure you're up to it." Wyatt shrugged. Lucia lifted her weapon and started to lead the group, with Daniel not far behind. Russell fell into position on Vince's right as he carried Becca, with Annie and Wyatt at the back of the convoy.

"_Maybe with any luck that outpost of theirs will be able to help Becca,"_ he thought. _"Let's hope she pulls through."_


	31. We're In Trouble

**Day 875 - Nightfall**

**Vince**

The settlement was about a mile away now. The group had moved back up onto the road once they were well and truly clear of the walkers but they kept to the side of the road purely out of paranoia. They wanted the option to run down the hill and into the fields rather than be trapped in the centre of the road should any walkers show up.

Vince looked down at Becca. Her breathing was slow but sure, yet still worryingly heavy. Her skin was still pale and she had deep bags under her eyes. The cut across her face which she had acquired whilst running away from Marshall a long while ago was accentuated by the whiteness of her skin, an ugly red streak across her face.

Becca twitched in her sleep and her eyelids slowly rolled back. She looked around for a second and then took a deep breath. "Hey." Vince said, and then called to the others. "She's awake."

The group crowded around and looked at Becca as she raised her head. "I… ache… all over." She groaned, and then raised her right hand to rub her head, pausing as she caught sight of the bandage and the three remaining digits. "Oh… I forgot about that." She sighed, "I can't believe… I can't…" She erupted into a stream of coughs.

"Shh… save your strength." Lucia said. "We're getting to the settlement. You can rest there."

"When did they show up?" Becca spluttered.

"They found us while you were out." Vince said. "Lucia patched you up better than Miles or I could. We think you'll be fine."

Becca smiled. "Not infected?"

"Not as far as we can tell. You might be having some issues due to blood loss, though." Lucia said, "So take it easy. Don't try walking if you can afford it."

"I want to try." Becca said. "Let me down."

Vince slowly and gently tilted her so that her feet touched the ground. She took a few wobbly steps before Vince ran to her and put his arm around her shoulder. "Here," he said, "You can walk, but I'm not letting you fall over."

Becca looked up at him. She was a wreck; she really didn't look well. "How far… do we have to go?" She asked.

"About a mile or so until we make it to the city," Vince said. "Not too far. Are you sure you can walk? I'll carry you if you can't."

"No… I'm… I'm fine." Becca said, and then erupted into another stream of coughs. "I'll be better when we get there."

Vince moved in to lift her up. "Come on, I'll…"

"No!" Becca said once again, more harshly this time. "You already cut my hand in _fucking _half. Just leave me alone." She pushed him away.

The group stopped and turned around, varying degrees of concern on their faces. "Vince, maybe you should leave her." Lucia said. "We'll switch places."

Vince moved slightly further ahead as Lucia walked next to Becca. He tried to keep them in earshot as they conversed about Becca's hand.

"I'm a nurse," Lucia said, as always, "I can talk to you about your arm if you need it."

"Am I infected?" Becca asked. If Vince had been in that position it would've been his major concern too.

"Not that I can tell," Lucia said, "From what I've seen before you've outlived the usual time it takes someone to die from the infection. Don't let yourself get too tired, though, there's a chance you could die of exhaustion or you could become short of breath again and suffocate. If you feel light headed, tell me and we'll get someone to carry you."

"Do you know what'll happen to my hand? Can I still hold guns?" Becca questioned.

"I'm not sure. Once it's healed properly we can try you with them, but you may have to use your left hand for it. How good are you with that?"

"Not very good, but I'll try my best. I know for sure I'll never play guitar again." Becca's face collapsed into a frown.

Lucia attempted to skew the subject. "Oh, you played guitar? What kind – electric? Bass?"

"Acoustic." Becca said. "My friend taught me a long time ago – about two years ago now. That was before we went to the settlement in Tennessee - before I met Wyatt or the others, even."

"What sort of songs did you play?"

"I didn't really play _songs_, I just used to make little tunes and show everyone. Not that that'll ever happen again." Becca sighed once more.

"Don't rule it out," Lucia said, comforting her. "Maybe you can adapt. Just be glad you still have your opposable thumb. Luckily you lost what I'd say are the most useless two fingers of the lot."

That appeared to cheer Becca up by an incredibly small margin. Vince assumed thoughts such as 'It could have been worse' were passing through her mind at that moment.

"Hold up," came an order from in front. Daniel, who was walking at the front of the group, was holding up his arm to signal them to stop.

Vince looked past the man and saw a shimmer of light ahead of him. "What the fuck?" He whispered.

"Shh.." Daniel said.

"Get down," Lucia commanded. "Into the trees."

The group did as ordered and retreated to the side of the road, making sure to use the bushes to cover them. They wouldn't be noticed unless someone was deliberately searching for them.

As Vince shuffled forward with the rest of the group, he heard a faint rumbling. At first he thought they were due for a winter storm or something, but he realised the noise was too quiet and too mechanical to be the weather.

The group moved further into the brush, the darkness and leaves obscuring the individual members. Vince could only use their voices as a reference to where they were as the plant life and the shadows practically blinded him.

"It's a truck." Daniel whispered, "The light is the headlights. The rumbling is the engine."

"Who the hell has a truck? Who the hell can _fuel _a truck?" Russell asked.

"Keep an eye out, whoever owns it might be around here. Stay in this cover." Lucia instructed.

"What the hell is going on, dudes?" Wyatt asked from the back of the group. "What are you talking about?"

A stifled cough passed through the trees – Becca, presumably.

"What's going on?" Annie's voice called.

"We should just move." Daniel said, "Get to the settlement. This is fuckin' weird. What do you say, guys."

Vince nodded, aware no one could see the gesture. "Let's go." He said. As he finished talking, there was a dull thud from behind.

"The fuck was that?" Russell asked.

"Don't know." Wyatt responded. Then another dull thud came. "Anyone got any ideas?"

"Not me, Lucia?" Daniel asked, and then paused for a response. When none came, his voice switched to a harsh whisper. "_**Lucia?**_"

"What's going on?" Vince asked.

"Lucia, talk to me, babe." Daniel said. "Are you oka-uggh!" There was another dull thud as Daniel was interrupted. Vince felt his heart race.

"What the fuck is going on?" He asked under his breath. "Guys?" He asked.

"What?" Wyatt responded.

"Everyone say something." Vince said, "I have no idea what's going on. Who's here?"

"Uh…" Wyatt said.

"I'm here." Annie's whispered. "I'm scared."

"Here." Russell said. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"Here." Miles called.

"Here." Becca rasped.

There was a rustle of leaves and another dull thud. "Uh…" Vince hummed.

"What the fuck _is _that?" Wyatt asked. Another dull thud came, and then another, followed by the sound of something being dragged along the ground.

"That's five times now." Wyatt said and then paused. "Are you guys still there?"

Vince waited for a second and then said, "Yeah."

"I am." Russell said. "I can't see shit, though."

"That's the problem, dude." Wyatt said, "none of us ca…" his words were cut off by a smacking noise. "What the fuck..?" he asked, and then it came again, followed by the sound of something falling over.

"Wyatt?" Vince asked. "Russell?"

Russell was still there. "Do you know what's happening?" he asked.

Vince shook his head, still aware Russell couldn't see him. He didn't reply, because he could feel something close to him – a presence that made him feel claustrophobic and uncomfortable. It took about ten seconds before the sound of impact came once again. Vince still had no idea what it was, but it was silencing his friends.

He heard a rustle of leaves and a crunch of hard dirt underfoot, as if someone was walking behind him. He turned and raised his hand to attack, but as he did so, something hit him hard in the side of the head, knocking him to the ground. He heard the same whacking noise he had before, but there was an added… bass to it, because he was the one being hit. He pushed himself off of the ground but was hit in the face again. He felt a burning pain rush through the bridge of his nose and then he fell to the ground, knocked out cold.


	32. The Waiting Game

**Day 875 - Night**

**Becca**

Becca came to - slowly, with blurred vision. A white light sat on the road in front of her. She tried to push herself off of the ground but her hands were stuck behind her back. She attempted to pull them apart but it seemed as if her wrists were bound. Moving her fingers she reached up and felt a thick, tape-like material holding her hands together behind her back – and then she noticed that the same thing was covering her mouth. She twitched her feet and moved them, realising that they were not bound.

On top of the likely kidnapping, she still felt incredibly ill and unbelievably drowsy. She had a pounding headache and she could feel something trickling down the back of her head, sticking her hair together – possibly blood from where something had been slammed into the back of her head while the group hid in the bushes.

Unsure of what to do, Becca lay on the ground and waited. She squinted in an attempt to make it look like she was still unconscious – someone would only notice she was awake if they were deliberately looking for it. She rolled her eyes in their sockets and saw other figures laid out on the ground – likely the rest of her group – all tied up like she was. There were more figures standing over some of them that she didn't recognise. She saw one standing over Vince's unconscious body to her left, another person standing further down the line who was using their foot to roll one of her friends onto their back, and another person standing far to the right with his back to them, not doing much at all. From what Becca could tell, they were all wielding long guns and had pistols holstered as well – one of which she recognised. A hooded man had _her_ pistol tucked between his shirt and the waist of his trousers.

Becca heard a muffled breathing beside her. Someone else was awake. She was lying on the asphalt with her head pointing to the right, where she'd seen one of her captors – the one standing further off, looking away from them. She titled her head and saw that it was Annie lying next to her, their heads pointing towards each other. Becca needed to get Annie to stop panicking before she attracted the attention of one of their captors, but how would she do it with duct tape covering her mouth? She couldn't peel it off with her hands, so was it even possible?

Becca thought for a second. Luckily Annie wasn't panicking, and Becca assumed she was scanning their surroundings like she had earlier. An idea came into Becca's head. It was by no means a good idea, but it had the potential to work. She took another look at her three captors and once she was confident she wasn't in their peripheral vision she lifted her cheek off of the asphalt, attempted to get the edge of the tape lined up with the ground and then pulled backwards, trying to loosen the binding using the gravel. The first time she only achieved a graze on her cheek, but she didn't relent. She tried once more, running her cheek along the ground, and felt a slight hint of relief as the edge of the tape loosened from the side of her face. If she needed to, she could easily press her face to the ground to stick the tape back onto her cheek to avoid suspicion.

Once she managed to get the tape halfway off of her lips, she pressed her feet to the ground and pushed upwards, trying to make physical contact to get her attention. She moved a couple of inches upwards before her hair made contact with the top of Annie's head. The younger girl's head tilted back in reaction and her eyes looked into Becca's. It was clear she didn't understand what was going on based on the fact that her face was red and her eyes were streaming with tears. She hadn't screamed – she'd probably been taught not to because of walkers – but beneath the tape covering her mouth Becca could hear rapid breathing.

Becca looked at the child, and then whispered. "Shh… it's gonna be okay." It was risky, but it seemed as if none of the captors had heard it. She chanced it again, "We'll be fine, wait for Wyatt to wake up. Pretend to be asleep."

Annie held her gaze, and then seemed to relax slightly. Becca attempted to smile at her as she lay on the ground, but with her mouth half-covered, she couldn't achieve much. At least she had managed to calm Annie down.

It seemed as if the three attackers were waiting for everyone in the group to wake up, and Becca feared the worst – she didn't know these men. If they had noticed two children awake, who knows what they would've done to them both. They could be looking at a "Marshall" situation right now, except there were three Marshalls this time. Becca unwillingly shuddered at the thought.

"Hey, this one just moved." Called a voice, which caused Becca to close her eyes in a desperate attempt to make them think she was still sleeping. The voice was broad and guttural, with what Becca could only describe as a 'northern' accent. A Wisconsin accent, maybe? This appeared to be the hooded man who had been standing over Vince earlier.

"If they're awake then they get up – bitch is probably still asleep." Said another voice, it was deep and shared the accent of the previous man. Becca didn't get a look at him because her eyes were closed, but she assumed by the footsteps coming from the right that it was the man who had been standing to her right, facing away from the captives.

"What're we gonna do with them?" The first man asked.

"Dunno," the second replied, "That's up to the big guy; he's the one running the whole show."

"There's a fuckin' _prize_ down there," the first man said, "Reckon he'll let me take her for a ride before we're done here?" Becca assumed he was referring to Lucia.

"Dunno," the second repeated. "He might do if he's in a good mood, but don't count on it – he never is."

Becca squeezed open her eye – the one that was closer to the ground, minimising the chance of it being seen, and saw the two men standing over her, looking at the source of the dim light. It was a pickup truck with its headlights on. As far as Becca could tell, it belonged to these three men. That made sense, anyway. She guessed that the other man, the one further down the line, was the one that the second man had referred to as "the big guy."

She took another look at her captors. The hooded man was Caucasian and wore a thin, faded, blue jacket, and had a patch of hair on his chin. His face was covered in lines and his eyes were set far back in his head, making him look older than he probably was. The second man was African-American, and had quite a large tuft of hair on his head, combined with stubble all over the bottom half of his face. He always looked concerned for some reason, though Becca doubted the look was intended. He had a green shirt on, along with a heavy jacket that covered almost half of his thighs, though he had rolled the sleeves up in the cold, which prompted Becca to wonder why he was even wearing a jacket if he wasn't going to use it properly.

"This one's missing half her hand." The first man said, "Wonder why that is."

"Probably got bit," the second man replied, tightening his grip on his shotgun, "remember we did that with Robbie? It worked."

Becca felt a moment of relief from these strangers, but her thoughts of inner joy were quickly put to rest by the first man. "Then we shot him in the face anyway. Gotta put a fucker down sometimes."

The two men burst out in morbid laughter, but they were silenced by the other man who was further to their left. "Hey!" he growled. His voice was gravelly, yet high and nasal. "You two wanna shut the fuck up? I can't hear with you pieces of shit tellin' jokes all over the place!"

"Ahh, you're no fun, Brandon." The first man said, adjusting his hood. "What're we waitin' for, anyway?"

"_He's_ told us, like, ten times now," '_Brandon' _said in his nasal voice, "We're waitin' for 'em to wake up. Then they repay us for what they did."

"_What did we do?" _Becca thought to herself. She couldn't think of an explanation. _"And what do they mean by us 'repaying them'? That doesn't sound good. And who is "He"? It seems like someone is giving these people orders – who?"_

Becca heard a muffled groan from her left. "We got a live one!" The man named Brandon said, and pulled someone to their knees. She heard a tearing, and a growl of pain. "Jesus!" A man cried. "Who the fuck…" He was silenced by Brandon.

"Shut the fuck up. You ain't askin' questions. We're tellin' you what's happenin'. First of all, you're gonna shut up. Then we're gonna wait for your friends to wake up. Then we're gonna make you wish you were dead. Now then, pal, since you've woken up, what's your name?"

The man spluttered and stuttered. "D-Daniel."

The sound of skin hitting skin echoed down the road as Daniel collapsed and howled in pain. "I thought I told you to shut the fuck up a minute ago!" Brandon growled. "I asked your name – that was a test. You ain't listenin' to me at all. Now sit there and think about how fuckin' stupid you are. We'll wait for your pals to wake up and then we can get this party started."


	33. Know The Score

**Day 875 - Night**

**Becca**

Becca still lay in the road, pretending to be unconscious, fearing the worst if she showed any signs of waking up. From what she could tell, Annie was doing the same. One of the three captors – the one with the nasal, gravelly voice named Brandon – had punched Daniel a couple of times and then got bored, pulling Daniel up so he was kneeling with his wrists taped together behind his back. The man was alone until the others woke up, and Becca felt bad for him, but her instincts of self-preservation overrode that.

"We got another one." The shorter, hooded man said. He looked at a crumpled figure on the ground in front of him and kicked them in the midriff. A groan of pain and confusion followed as the hooded man lifted them to their knees and put them in the same position as Daniel. Becca couldn't get a good look at him, so she had to use her head to work out who it was. Vince was to her left and was still unconscious; Annie was to her right and was pretending to be. Daniel was awake and on his knees. That left Lucia, Miles, Russell and Wyatt unspoken for – and one of them had just woken up. Becca didn't think it was Lucia – she was presumably at the very end of the line, to Daniel's left, but the person who had just recovered consciousness was between Daniel and Vince.

From what she could work out, the captives were lined out in the order of Lucia and Daniel, then Russell, Wyatt and Miles in no particular order, then Vince, then Becca and finally Annie.

"They're all comin' to now, won't be long." The second man - the deep voiced one – said. "We got number three right here." Becca presumed he meant a third person was waking up and sure enough, when she opened her right eye for a peek she heard a shuffle very close to her and saw Vince being pulled to his knees. She couldn't bring herself to feel sorry for him after he'd cut her hand in half. Even though it had been for a good enough reason, he was responsible for her mutilation and she resented him for it.

Another ten or so minutes passed before anyone else woke up. This time they tore the tape off of the person's mouth to let them speak. "Who are you?!" Miles yelled, before he was quickly silenced by a punch to the face. He fell over, but they pulled him back up onto his knees again.

Becca decided that she'd have to fake waking up at some point, before they caught her out and punished her for that. From what she'd learned from the past four captives, saying something wasn't an option. If they tore the tape from her mouth she'd say nothing and not give them the excuse to do anything to her. She took a deep breath in through her nose, made sure the tape was attached to her face like it had been before she'd managed to pull some of it off, and rolled her body onto her back.

"Number five here." The gravelly voiced man – Brandon – said. He grabbed the sides of her jacket and pulled her onto her knees, and then wrenched the tape off of her mouth causing a seething pain. "Got anything smart to say?" The man asked. Becca pretended to be woozy and tired, but all she achieved was getting a sharp back hand to the left cheek which knocked her flat. She was pulled to her knees once more and was left alone to join the other four captives who were awake.

She was shoulder-to-shoulder with Vince. They exchanged glances for a second and then Becca looked further down the line. To Vince's immediate left was a still unconscious Wyatt, then Miles, then Russell – the person whose identity she hadn't been able to discern earlier, then Daniel and then Lucia, who was still on the ground.

Wyatt stirred in his sleep, causing the attackers to think that he had woken up. They dragged him to his knees before realising he wasn't awake, and then slapped him about a bit to hurry the process. Wyatt's eyes snapped open and the tape was taken off of his mouth, leading Becca to realise her mouth had been left uncovered, unlike Vince, Miles, Daniel or Russell.

"What the hell?" Wyatt asked. "Who are you guys? What are you…" he groaned in pain as he received a heavy kick to the stomach that caused him to double over in pain. Becca heard a muffled scream to her left – Annie was reacting to Wyatt being hit, which made her forget about pretending to be unconscious and gave her away.

"We got a light sleeper here!" Brandon said, walking over to Annie. "What're we gonna do with this one, pretendin' to be asleep?"

"I dunno, let the big guy decide." The deep-voiced man said. Becca looked at him and saw him gesturing with his thumb, pointing at the pickup truck behind them, which still had its headlights on. She hadn't noticed before, but there was a man sitting in the driver's seat. She couldn't make out what he looked like because he was silhouetted due to the direction of the glow coming from the headlights.

"Just one more," the hooded man said, looking at Lucia. "How'd you reckon we can hurry this up?"

"Pour water on the bitch's face." Brandon growled.

"We don't have any water." The hooded man replied, "Could always piss on her, though."

"Shakin' 'em works sometimes," the deep-voiced man offered, "Try that. Or slap her about a bit."

The hooded man crouched over Lucia and grabbed her sweatshirt, then shook it violently. She woke up after a second of being shaken but the man kept going. "She's awake." Brandon said, "Cut it out. Just get her on her knees then we can start."

Becca looked down the line. They were all awake now, in varying states of panic; Lucia, Daniel, Russell, Miles, Wyatt, Vince, herself and then Annie. The hooded man stood towards the left of the captives, his hands tightly gripping his shotgun, while the deep-voiced man stood next to Annie holding a hunting rifle. Brandon walked over to the humming pickup truck and slammed on the metal above the driver's seat. "Pricks are all up." He called, and then walked back to check on all his captives.

It took a few seconds, but the door of the pickup opened slowly for a few centimetres and then got slammed open all the way. A man turned in the seat, and then stepped out of the vehicle. He was somewhat masked by the darkness, but Becca could see that he had a messy, thick head of dry, wiry brown hair. He had an average yet slightly muscular build and wore a light brown shirt and jeans. His face was littered with lines; he had small, sinister eyes and thick eyebrows, along with an untidy dusting of hair on the bottom half of his visage which was more prominent on his chin and his top lip. He stepped out of the vehicle, folding a two-and-a-half-year-old newspaper as he walked towards the captives. The other three moved apart to clear a path for him. It was clear that this was the "big guy" they had been talking about earlier – their leader.

As he made his appearance, the whole atmosphere changed. It was no longer three bandits robbing a group; everyone's attention was on this man. He stepped forward, and looked at the group members one at a time, starting with Lucia and ending with Annie. When he looked at Becca, his sheer self confidence and cold gaze creeped her out, but she held eye contact where some of the others looked away. He smirked, put his hands on his hips, and turned his back to them.

"You folks fucked up a couple of days ago." He said. In comparison to the hooded man, the deep voiced one and 'Brandon', his voice was surprisingly normal. It wasn't gravelly, it wasn't deep and it wasn't nasal. It was just… normal.

"You folks fucked up a couple days ago." He repeated after a few seconds, and then turned back to face them all. "One of you killed one of us back in that mall. Shot him right through the head. I know one of you did it, and whoever it was knows it was them. Some of you might know who it was. So you can sell 'em out, or you can _all_ pay."

He stopped pacing and smiled – a horrible, intimidating, patronising smile. "But first, let's get to know each other a little."


	34. Pay Your Dues

**Day 875 - Night**

**Becca**

"One of_ you_ killed one of _us_ back in that mall. Shot him right through the head. I know one of you did it, and whoever it was knows it was them. Some of you might know who it was. So you can sell 'em out, or you can _all_ pay."

He stopped pacing and smiled – a horrible, intimidating, patronising smile. "But first, let's get to know each other a little."

The man turned around on his heel and paced back down the line again. "My name is Ivan." He said, and then gestured to the gravelly voiced man, "This is Brandon." He looked at the hooded man, "This is Ethan," and he finally pointed towards the tall African-American man, "and that's Don."

"Donald." '_Don_' corrected.

"Shut up." Ivan said, and then ran his hand through his thick hair. "What do you think of them, fellas?" He asked his goons, talking about Becca's group as if they weren't there. "It's always the same way with poor saps like this – they always come in twos. How do you reckon they all add up?"

Brandon shrugged and gestured towards Becca and Annie with his pistol. "They're sisters." He said, and then directed his arm towards Wyatt and Miles. "They're brothers."

"Those two are fucking." Donald said, looking at Daniel and Lucia.

"You're all idiots." Ivan said. "If you'd been listening rather than fucking around, you would've noticed that the little girl cried out and even let us know she was awake when one of you hit the prick with the beard. Clearly _those _two mean something to each other. You're probably right about the Spanish bitch and Hat Boy over there fucking each other; you should've seen the look on Hat Boy's face when you suggested pissing on his bitch, Ethan."

Ethan chuckled and adjusted his hood slightly as Ivan inspected the rest of the group. "I think it's clear about this boy…" he aimed his gun at Russell, "Jackie Chan here…" he pointed at Vince, "and dead-arm here," he looked at Miles and continued, "None of them are related to others, they're all friends at best." He walked back down the line and stopped in front of Becca. Her heart started racing as he crouched in front of her and their eyes levelled. His eyes were cold and lifeless, much like a walkers', but they still carried a sense of self-awareness that walkers didn't have. Through them Becca could almost see the thoughts and inner workings of his mind as he spoke. "You interest me, kiddo." He whispered, grabbing her chin with his hand and squeezing her cheeks. "You're hiding something, and it ain't your hand. You're not just missing half your hand, there; you're missing a person, too, aren't you? I said people like you always come in sets of two, and you lost your other half. But that's beside the point - you got bit, am I right? Don't worry, you ain't gonna turn. We had a pal who got bit on the leg and we amputated, but he slowed us down so we killed him. We had _another _pal, who one of your friends – or maybe even you – killed. Who did it?"

The man named Ivan waited for a response. Becca didn't give him the luxury, and his forehead creased as his face twisted into a mask of anger. "We could've done this the easy way," he said. "You all coulda' walked away, albeit with no supplies, but you woulda had your lives. All you had to do was tell us who it was. Who shot David in that fuckin' mall?"

Again, Becca didn't answer. She assumed Ivan had picked her out because she was the only one whose mouth wasn't covered – and truth be told, she knew the bandit had been killed, but she didn't know the culprit.

"Take off their gags." Ivan ordered, "We're gonna hear them all speak."

Brandon, Ethan and Donald moved down the line, wrenching off the duct tape that covered all of the group members' mouths. Immediately there was a rush of shouting and rage from the group until Ivan fired three shots into the air. "Shut the fuck up." He demanded. "You're in no position to scream at us." The group stopped shouting. Becca was praying that the protests and the shots hadn't attracted walkers.

Ivan looked down the group again as he reloaded his weapon, and his eyes settled on Lucia and Daniel. "We're gonna have to do this the hard way," he muttered, and moved towards those two. He got behind them, grabbed Daniel around the back of the neck and lifted him to his feet. He dragged him over to the pickup truck and slammed him down onto the bonnet. "I'm gonna ask you again nicely for the last time – who killed David?"

Daniel didn't say anything for a few seconds, so Ivan spoke up again. "We sent our friend into a mall to get some supplies, and one of you shot him dead! What do you have to say for yourself? Who did it?"

Daniel gasped and tried to speak, his hand muffled by the cold truck bonnet and the hand gripping him around the neck. "I… I didn't… I don't…" he groaned.

Ivan flipped him over, so that the back of Daniel's head was on the car bonnet and Ivan's fingers were wrapped around the soft flesh of his throat. "Again." He demanded. "Who. Did. It?"

"I don't know!" Daniel strained, "I'd tell you if I knew!"

Ivan's temperament changed as soon as the words were uttered. His entire body relaxed, he lifted his hand off of Daniel's throat and then took a few steps back. "Useless," he said calmly, "Absolutely useless." He stepped forward again, grabbed Daniel by his shirt, lifted him up and threw him to the ground, where he remained.

Becca's heart rate increased as Ivan looked over his shoulder at the group, but his gaze didn't fall on her. Donald, Brandon and Ethan took a step back as their leader walked over to the edge of the line of captives, and spoke in a tense tone. "This is why, fellas, I was asking you who you thought was related." He lifted Lucia up. "_This_ is how you get people to talk." He withdrew a knife. For a moment Becca thought he was going to stab Lucia, but instead he cut the bindings that held her wrists together. Daniel looked up in relief from where he lay on the ground by the side of the truck, and Ivan looked down at him with a look of understanding and calmness on his face as he held Lucia in front of him.

In an instant, Ivan changed. His eyes flared and his mouth twisted into a grin as he pulled open the door of the vehicle, pushed Lucia's arm inside and slammed the truck door on her hand. Her scream of pain combined with Daniel's yell of rage as he desperately tried to reach her, his efforts futile.

Ivan stepped back and laughed, then opened the truck door. Lucia's knees buckled as she clutched her hand and looked back at Ivan.

"So, do you know who did it?" the madman asked.

"No." Lucia growled through gritted teeth. Before Ivan could reply, she shot up and attempted to grab him in a fit of rage. Brandon, Ethan and Donald all pointed guns at her, but they couldn't get a clear shot without potentially hitting Ivan. Luckily for them, they didn't need to worry. Ivan quickly tackled Lucia and pushed her back onto her knees with her back to him. "It's all right, pals," he said, stretching her good arm out with his right hand and placing his left on her shoulder, "I'll deal with this." He said.

He gritted his teeth, growled, and lifted his left foot, slamming it straight into the back of Lucia's elbow. She screamed in anguish as the bones in her arm snapped and bent the wrong way. Becca wasn't certain but she thought she saw bone tear the skin of the other side of her arm.

"Lucia! LUCIA!" Daniel cried from the ground. His girlfriend collapsed to the ground, one hand slammed into a car door, the other arm bent the wrong way, bleeding profusely with bones sticking out.

Ivan drew himself up to his full height as Lucia whimpered and Daniel screamed. He linked his fingers, pushed his hands outwards and cracked the bones in his neck before relaxing. He looked at the remaining group of Russell, Miles, Wyatt, Vince, Becca and Annie, and then said. "So, who's next?"

Becca looked to her left as Ivan's eyes fell on a target.


	35. Not Suffer Fools

**Day 875 - Midnight**

**Becca**

Lucia's screams and moans echoed through the night as she stared wide-eyed at her elbow. It was bent back the wrong way, the bones sticking out of the front. Becca could almost feel the pain herself. It must have been so intense that Lucia didn't feel anything as she clutched it with the hand that Ivan had slammed under the truck door. Daniel lay on the ground next to his partner, gently moaning her name as he desperately squirmed towards her, unable to do much with his hands bound.

Then there were Ivan's cronies. Donald, the tall, African-American fellow, was standing to the far right of the collection of humans, seemingly wanting no part of this torture. Ethan, the hooded, slightly fat dimwit was enjoying the view in the centre of the road while Brandon, the gravelly-voiced 'clever' one was stood slightly to the left. Ivan the messy-haired, soft spoken tyrant was scanning his hostages for his next target.

Becca selfishly tried to spare herself. She averted her gaze in a desperate effort not to tempt Ivan. If he picked her she wouldn't know what to do. It was either suffer the same torment as Lucia and Daniel, or sell someone out – and truthfully she didn't know who had killed that bandit back at the mall. What if it had been Ralph? He wasn't around. Becca didn't know _where _he was. Maybe he'd ditched them – but then he'd been so keen to join up with them in the first place. Maybe he had been killed at some point.

Movement caused Becca to snap out of her trance. Ivan was walking towards the group, aiming to get answers out of Russell, Miles, Wyatt, Vince, Becca or Annie. He took a step towards Becca's side of the line of hostages, causing her heart to race, and then took one final look around. He smirked, and turned away. Becca felt disgusted that she was relieved.

Ivan looked at Vince, and then turned to one of his goons. "Ethan!" He ordered, "Grab this one."

For a split second, Vince's rage-filled expression changed to surprise and fear, but as the hooded man lifted him up onto his feet and pushed him forwards, towards the truck, he became angry once more. Ethan put Vince in a chokehold, causing him to bend over slightly. Ivan levelled his eyes with his captive's and spoke. "You seem like the leader of this little happy bunch. Was it you who ordered the kill - was it a little "executive decision" of yours?" He made air quotes mockingly.

Vince strained through the hold. "I didn't do it, if that's what you're asking. There were walkers down the hall. I wasn't going to shoot a guy, because it would've attracted them."

In an instant, Ivan lifted his hand and Ethan released Vince, slicing his bonds. The captive looked at the captor with relief and surprise, causing Ivan to speak once more. "You're a very silly man." He said, pulling a pistol out of its holster. "You say that like you would've shot David anyway if not for those walkers. You should think before talking, it could save your life." He lifted his pistol and smacked Vince across the face with it, knocking him onto all fours and creating a nasty gash. Before Vince could do anything, Ivan pointed the pistol at the back of his head. "I could kill you right now," he said, "and none of your friends could do shit. But I'm a kind man. I want to know who killed David, and then the rest of you can live… albeit in various states of pain." The man retracted his gun, stamped on Vince's hand and kicked him onto the ground. As Ivan walked away, he looked to one of his group – this time Donald. "Keep an eye on this one," he demanded, "I have a feeling he's a runner."

Donald nodded and closed in on Vince to make sure he didn't get any ideas. Miles scowled at Ivan and said, "You piece of shit." He only received a smirk in response.

Ivan looked at Wyatt and then turned to his gravelly-voiced companion, Brandon. "You can do this one; he looks like a fucking goon." He called half-heartedly. Before Wyatt could say anything, he was lifted to his feet and thrown further into the road as Brandon descended on him, kicking him and beating him with no restraint. Wyatt tried to curl up to shield himself but Brandon's attacks had already found their way to his stomach amongst other weak areas. "Don't use any knives or anything." Ivan called a few seconds later. "Don't get excited."

The leader of their captors strolled up and down, back and forth past the group members who were 'lucky' enough to still be kneeling with their hands trapped behind their backs – Russell, Miles, Becca and Annie. "Well, we're really down to the dregs of humanity, now aren't we?" He said as he looked at them one by one, "_Steve Urkel_, _potty mouth_, _half hand_ _and the fake-sleeper." _He directed his next question at Annie. "How does it feel to waste our time, kiddo? I know you're connected to 'beardy' over there. How's it feel to watch him get beaten up? If you don't want to tell me now we can always try some other stuff."

Annie looked up at the man. Becca couldn't be sure what was going on in the head of a child half her age. When she was seven all she'd had to worry about were her parents trying to force her into an academy, hand-painting, multiplication, grammar and things of that nature. Annie was worrying about life-or-death situations, walkers, strange men. How she made it through the day Becca would never know.

"So, half hand." Ivan said, alerting Becca. "While we're taking a break, shall we talk about how you cheated death? How's it feel? Is it healing okay? Do you know who killed David?"

Becca looked Ivan in the eyes, and then shook her head. "No, I don't know. I'm sorry, but it wasn't me." Her hand still felt awkward where it was missing two fingers and a hefty portion of the palm itself.

Ivan paused. He seemed slightly surprised. He rested his hands on his hips and began pacing up and down the line again. "Well, you have manners, half-hand. I'll give you that." He said. "You're not off the hook, though. I have a hunger for revenge to satisfy and you're expendable - worthless, even. You hang with these folks. You're dirt."

Becca's heart sank. She knew she shouldn't even consider his opinion, but to be called worthless shook her confidence and hurt her to her core. Perhaps she had succeeded in avoiding his wrath for now. She looked at the road once again. Lucia had ceased screaming and was slumped against the truck. Daniel was lying on the ground next to her, his arms still sealed behind his back. Vince lay on the asphalt, not daring to attempt to rise as Donald stood over him, and Wyatt was still being kicked by Brandon – though his attacker had got bored quickly. Annie was looking at Wyatt too, slowly weeping in fear and confusion, not loud enough for anyone but Becca – who was immediately to her left – to hear.

"So, Steve Urkel," Ivan said, crouching in front of Russell, "Wanna make a confession?"

"Make a confession, my ass." Miles grunted. Ivan shot him a glance and then lifted his pistol, pointing it at Miles' face to shut him up. The captor looked back at Russell and continued their conversation. "Anything?" He asked, slapping Russell's face playfully.

"I don't have anythin' to say to you." Russell growled.

"A shame." Ivan said, and then withdrew his hand from Russell's face. He curled it into a fist and knocked him flat – with his wrists tied together, Russell had nothing to save himself with and his head made contact with the gravel, spilling blood.

Ivan pulled his pistol away from Miles' face and stood up again. "Three left," he muttered to himself, "What to do… what to do…"

Becca felt a chill as Ivan's eyes fell on her. "Sorry, half-hand – I know you have manners and all that, but it's your turn." He said, pacing over to her slowly. It seemed like it took forever, the time between each of his feet hitting the ground seeming like hours. Becca panicked. She felt herself shuddering as her eyes darted for any sign of escape. With nothing convenient to save her and all her friends trapped, she knew she was in for torment.

Ivan grabbed the chest of her jacket and lifted her to his feet. He pushed her past Donald, who was standing over Vince and shoved her towards the truck. Once they were there he gestured to Ethan, who lifted a switchblade. Becca started hyperventilating – she knew what she was in for. Before she knew it Ivan was slicing through her bonds. He gripped her left wrist and pinned it to the truck, pulling her sleeve up as he did so. His grip was too strong to escape. Becca felt like screaming as he held the blade and she felt it touch the hairs on her arm. She could feel his dirty, warm breath on her. It stank of alcohol and filth.

Ivan looked at the group. "First chance to sell someone out," he said. Daniel and Lucia were too out-of-it to pay attention, Wyatt was still being beaten. Vince was on the ground and Russell had a bleeding head to contend with. Miles was too loyal and too stubborn to sell anyone out, and Annie was weeping and didn't have the guts.

"First chance is gone." Ivan said, and sliced. Becca screamed in agony as blood spewed from a cut on the top of her left forearm. A searing pain ran through her arms as the cold metal tore through her skin, veins and nerves.

"_Second chance."_ Ivan growled, moving the knife further up her arm. She wasn't paying attention anymore. She was trapped in a pain-induced spasm, screaming, wailing and crying at the burning pain running up her arm. Ivan's question was directed at her now. "Tell me who did it!" He growled.

"You fucking monster!" Miles yelled from behind, but he only earned a pistol whip from Ethan.

"Second chance is gone." Ivan growled as the burning sensation came once more. Becca's knees buckled as she felt red liquid spilling and dripping from her arm. "Stop it… please!" she screamed.

"Get the fuck off of her!" Miles yelled, still the only person in any state to complain. He was hit around the back of the head this time.

"THIRD CHANCE." Ivan yelled, and then counted down. Still no one told him anything. Becca didn't want to get anyone killed, even if that meant she would have to suffer this humiliation and pain, screaming and crying as slitting of her arm continued.

"You people are idiots." Ivan said calmly. "Third chance gone." He turned the knife sideways and slit in between the two cuts on Becca's arm. She wailed in pain once more as he pushed her to the ground, his hands covered in her own blood, accidentally knocking a backpack off of the back of the truck.

As Becca hit the ground, the noise she made alerted two people; Daniel and Lucia. The latter looked at her with disinterest and disregard as she cradled her snapped elbow. Daniel jumped at the noise but ignored her, instead opting to fiddle behind his back. Ivan swore and kicked the backpack out of her arm's reach.

Becca lay on her back, not doing anything. Her part of this was over now – at least she hoped so. She could feel the blood pouring from the three linked slices on her arm. She looked at the cuts, and pressed her bandaged right hand down on it in an attempt to stop the bleeding. She felt tears in the corners of her eyes. This was more painful than anything a walker could do. Her head was thumping; she had already suffered blood loss - too much more and she'd be a goner. She prayed she'd avoid that fate.

In the corner of her eye she noticed Ivan picking up another victim, a short one who cowered in his grasp. Annie. Was he really going to stoop _that _low?

Ivan called to Brandon to cease kicking Wyatt so that the latter could watch. He pushed Annie in front of him, knocking her onto his knees as he withdrew his pistol and held it to the back of her head. Becca lay on her back as she bled, noticing the other members of the group look up in horror. Russell was stirring, trying to push himself up. Vince was moving too, but Donald kept forcing him down. Daniel was still rigorously moving his arms up and down. Even Lucia released her injured elbow for a second as she looked up. Miles was desperate to stop him, yelling at the tyrant. Every time he called out Ethan beat him around the side of his head with his shotgun, but Miles didn't relent.

Becca saw Ivan's grip tightening on the trigger. She tried to call out to prevent him firing, but she couldn't. All that escaped her lungs was a weak rasp.

"Stop!" Someone yelled, presumably Wyatt.

"You fucking animal!" Miles bellowed at the man, only to be beaten around the head again. "Your friend is probably _glad _he's dead, so he doesn't have to watch a monster like you!"

"Stop, man, please!" Wyatt called.

Silence filled the air. Everyone stopped shouting. Becca heard Miles mutter something under his breath.

"What was that?" Ivan said his grip on the trigger loosening. "Say it again."

Miles paused, and then looked the man in the eyes, scowling. "I've got what you need."

"What?" Ivan asked.

"Let Annie go. Let this stop. I've worked out who you want."


	36. A Gracious Soldier

**Day 875 - Midnight**

**Vince**

"I know who killed your friend." Miles sighed.

Vince looked up in horror as Ivan lifted his pistol away from the back of Annie's head. The bandit leader seemed to be shocked along with his cronies. Vince looked over at the others in the group; Russell's head was bleeding and he was lying on the ground, Daniel was fiddling with something behind his back. Lucia was sitting against the truck, clutching her elbow. Wyatt was struggling on the ground, looking as if he intended to lift himself to his feet. Becca was lying on the dirt, blood pouring out of her arm; Vince had heard her screaming, but he'd been unable to do anything as Donald had pushed him down every time he'd tried to get up to help her. Ivan had pushed Annie onto the ground, ignoring her as he paced over to Miles, who stared him down.

"You're a piece of shit, you know that?" Miles snarled at Ivan. Vince saw Daniel stop moving out of the corner of his eye. At first he thought that the man was shocked, but then he saw a flash of movement behind his back. Daniel raised his hands from behind his back, no longer bound. Somehow he'd managed to cut his bindings and had succeeded in freeing himself. Vince wasn't sure what he planned to do but Daniel managing to release himself gave him hope.

Vince felt something touch his left hand. He turned over and saw that Becca was gripping his palm. At first he thought it was just a kind gesture, but then he felt something cold and square between their palms. He looked at her confused. She nodded slightly and pulled her hand away. Vince curled his own into a fist and pulled the object towards him.

At that moment, Ivan was standing in front of Miles. The captor stared at the captive, prompting the latter to struggle to his feet. They held their gaze for a few seconds and then Miles repeated himself. "I know who did it."

"So tell me." Ivan instructed, getting restless.

"You honestly think I'm gonna _tell _you, fuckass? I'm just saying I _know, _is all."

Ivan growled and pistol-whipped Miles, knocking him down to the ground. "I don't like your attitude." The tyrant said, pressing Miles' head into the gravel floor. "Tell me who did it."

"Try harder." Miles said with a smug grin on his face. "I'm the only one who knows who did it and I don't plan on saying _shit_."

Ivan growled and pressed into Miles' face, pushing him forwards. Miles groaned in pain as the asphalt tore up the skin on the side of his face, but did not relent.

"Fucking tell me!" Ivan yelled, lifting Miles up and throwing him against the truck. "You tell me, I kill whoever it was, you can _leave! _Just tell me!"

"Nope." Miles smirked, "I'm not letting you kill anyone." Ivan kicked him in the stomach and withdrew his knife. "You're really starting to piss me off now," the bandit growled.

"Oh, this is you being "_really pissed"_? I thought you'd passed that point ages ago, when you decided to destroy Lucia's elbow or when you sliced up a teenager." Miles spat, goading him on. Vince wasn't sure what he was getting at. He was only putting himself in the line of fire, getting himself hurt.

Vince looked around. Ivan's goons, Brandon, Ethan and Donald were all watching the spectacle.

Their eyes were no longer on the prisoners. Daniel had managed to free his arms, and Becca had passed Vince something – what was it? He looked under his palm. It was a lighter, and it looked as if it had fallen out of the backpack Ivan had knocked over earlier. But how would he use it?

Miles cried in pain as Ivan sliced his face with his knife. "Tell me who did it!" He screamed. Miles coughed as his face bled – one side from a nasty cut, the other where his face had been grazed by the road. "No."

Ivan threw down his weapon carelessly and punched Miles across the face. "You're not… gonna break me…" Miles coughed weakly, probably telling _himself_ more than he was telling his attacker.

Daniel saw that Ivan's knife had landed within arm's reach. He made eye contact with Vince, who quickly provided a glimpse of the lighter. Daniel looked at him. Perhaps they had a plan.

Vince looked up at Miles, who looked back at him. His head tilted forwards in a slight nod and he looked back at Ivan. "Do it!" He screamed at his attacker – but it was clearly an instruction for Vince and Daniel.

It all made sense – Miles had noticed that Daniel had been trying to free himself from the very beginning. After that he'd goaded on Ivan to draw his attention. Then he'd said he knew who shot the bandit back at the mall to get everyone's else to look at him - as well as saving Annie from immediate danger - leaving Daniel to come up with an escape plan himself.

Daniel's fingers made contact with the knife. He pulled the blade towards him and kept hold of it, waiting for the right moment, holding it to his chest as he lay on the ground. Vince covered the lighter with his hands and flicked it on. Donald was still standing over him. Maybe he could use the lighter to his advantage.

As Vince prepared the flame, he was shocked to see Miles fall to the floor beside him. Ivan pressed one foot into his victim's chest. "One more time," he growled, "Tell me who killed my friend."

Vince made eye contact with Miles. They were barely a metre apart, both lying on the ground. Time was running out. Miles' face collapsed into a frown as he shook his head and uttered a single, solitary lie.

"I did."

Ivan smiled in victory, lifting Miles back onto his feet. He patted the man on the shoulder and told him, "Go wait over there," in a kind voice.

Miles was shocked for a moment, but he didn't complain as he turned to walk away. That was, until something small and metallic tore through his shoulder, knocking him to his knees. "Why did you…?" he asked in protest, but another projectile burst through his ribs, causing him to collapse to the ground. He pushed himself back to his hands and knees one last time, coughing and spluttering blood, his hand clutching the area just below his ribs. He twisted around and held his hand out to Ivan in an attempt to stop him, uttering a single sigh, "Please." Then the final slug hit his heart and took him down.


	37. In The Dark

**Day 875 - Midnight**

**Wyatt**

Wyatt reached out as Ivan fired the bullet that put Miles down. He moaned in pain, and fell onto his hands in despair - it was no use.

Looking up, he saw a shimmer come from Vince's hand, next to the trouser leg of one of the bandits – the tall, dark skinned one called Donald. Before he knew it a flame appeared at the bandit's foot, but it took him a few seconds to notice.

When he did, he squealed almost comically, lifting his foot to put out the fire. As everyone was distracted, Daniel leapt up with a knife in his hand and dived straight for Ivan.

Wyatt realised that this was his chance. The bandit who had been beating him mercilessly – the one named Brandon – was staring at his comrade's burning leg in shock. Wyatt looked for Annie, and sure enough, she was staring back at him, trying to get to her feet.

He remembered the words he'd told her when they'd first met, back at the hardware store.

"_I'm gonna help you, okay? But you have to do exactly what I say." _

He growled, at the sticky situation more than the bandits. He pulled his knees into his chest, and passed his duct-taped wrists under them with a lot of strain, getting his arms in front of his body.

Daniel was wrestling Ivan now; a knife in the former's hand, aimed at the latter's face. The other bandits were trying to get a clear shot on Daniel, but they were afraid of shooting Ivan. Wyatt took the chance, lifted his bound arms and stood up behind Brandon. He threw his arms over the man's shoulders, pulling him into a chokehold that shocked him and caused him to drop his gun.

Wyatt looked around. No one was coming to Brandon's aid. He could kill him right now, but something prevented him from doing so; the wide-eyed child that was struggling to her feet in the middle of the road. If she saw that, then he'd never be able to forgive himself. He should have given himself up and said that it was he who had shot the bandit, even if he wasn't one hundred per cent sure it was him. He could've saved Miles, but then who would look after Annie?

Wyatt opted not to kill Brandon, but to put him out of action. He got his elbow in front of the man's throat and crushed, choking him. He'd only wait until Brandon was unconscious, no longer.

Lucia was pushing herself to her feet. Wyatt felt sorry for her. The attack that had put her right arm out of action had been brutal and merciless. She made a last ditch attempt to attack Ethan, the only bandit who wasn't otherwise engaged, and succeeded in knocking him onto his back, catching him by surprise. She pulled a pistol out of the waistband of his jeans and pointed it at him, before backing away from the rest. It looked like she was tempted to run for it but she couldn't leave Daniel.

Vince was free now, too. Thanks to his unbound hands, he was able to launch a heavy punch at Donald, who had succeeded in putting out the fire on his leg. The bandit hit the ground as Vince grabbed Becca, who looked deathly pale, and made a run for it.

Brandon was unconscious. Wyatt dropped the bandit and called to Annie, "COME HERE!" Instantly the girl ran for him as Vince dashed past with Becca over his shoulder. The two reunited and began to run, before Wyatt remembered the others. Vince was slowing down now that they were somewhat clear of the chaos, but they had to wait for their allies. They couldn't abandon them.

In a split second, Daniel lost the struggle between himself and Ivan. The bandit wrenched the knife from his grasp and launched it straight back at him, thrusting it into his stomach. Daniel grunted in pain as Lucia ran at Ivan, knocked him off-balance, grabbed Daniel's shoulder and the two made a run - or a stagger - for it, dashing out into the fields rather than following Vince, Wyatt, Becca and Annie. With Miles dead, one person was left unaccounted for.

"RUSSELL!" Wyatt called. It looked like the younger man was having trouble staying conscious. He could barely push himself to his feet and now he was almost alone with the four bandits. It'd be seconds before they noticed him. The call made him perk up a little, but the bandits were already regaining their vigour aside from Brandon, who was unconscious. Russell got to his feet and made a run for it, but Donald started firing his rifle at the escapees, forcing them to duck into the trees at the side of the road.

Russell was making his way down the road, attempting to dodge the shots that Donald and Ethan were firing. The latter had picked up Brandon's gun after he had fallen unconscious and was shooting without moderation.

"Russell, come on!" Vince yelled. Wyatt looked out past the tree again, and fell into a spasm as a bullet skimmed the top of his right arm. He felt warm blood spill out of his arm as he ran down the hill into the nearby field. "Fuck…" he grimaced. Annie followed him down the hill and got in front of him, trying to undo his bindings.

Vince followed them down the hill too. "We can't hang around for long." He said, "Russell needs to hurry up or we're all dead."

"They killed Miles, man," Wyatt said, "They killed him."

"He didn't kill the guy, did he?" Vince asked bluntly.

"No," Wyatt said, "At least, I don't think so."

They ran back up the hill to see whether Russell had caught up with them yet. The younger man was still running, but Ethan was now giving chase. Russell was leaning towards the opposite side of the road to the others, desperately hobbling along on his injured leg.

Ethan was catching up, pointing his weapon at Russell. He didn't get the chance to fire because Donald beat him to it, landing a shot on Russell's shoulder. The younger man stumbled, but kept running until another bullet powered through his kneecap. He staggered for a few metres and then fell to the side, collapsing into the bushes and disappearing from sight.

"We have to go." Vince said, grabbing Wyatt's shoulder. "If he's quick he'll get away. We can come back for him or he'll get to the outpost."

Wyatt reluctantly sighed. He wished they could run and get Russell but they wouldn't have a chance to find him; he'd fallen into a dark bush and presumably rolled down a hill and there were Ethan was giving chase, with Ivan and Donald not far behind. When he turned to run, Vince had already started to sprint away with Becca over his shoulder. He grabbed Annie's hand and pulled her along as they ran.

They'd lost Miles and potentially lost Russell. It was a terrifying prospect. They'd run to the outpost, find Lucia and Daniel, gather supplies, get some people together and come back for Russell. That's what they'd do, and Wyatt wouldn't accept anything else. If there was a chance that Russell could be found, he'd take it.

As they ran, they heard the bandits yelling to each other.

"Let 'em go!" Ivan called, "They can't run forever!"

"Let's get in the truck." Donald shouted, "I think I've got an idea of where they're goin'."

"You fuckers are dead!" Ethan yelled, "You tried killin' us four and now you're gonna get what your friends did!"

Wyatt stopped looking back and followed Vince. Indianapolis was in sight now, there were suburbs just ahead, and that meant the Outpost would follow.

"You're all dead, y'hear?" Ivan roared, his voice just a faint whisper on the wind now. "We're coming for you; you've got nowhere to run!"

Wyatt stared straight ahead as he ran alongside Vince. A realisation hit him. They were bargaining on this Outpost being a place of refuge or sanctuary – what if it was a bad place, it was no longer a decent shelter, or worse still…

_…what if it didn't even exist?_

**END OF EPISODE FOUR**

**TO BE CONTINUED IN EPISODE FIVE: NOWHERE TO RUN.**


	38. EPISODE FIVE - NOWHERE TO RUN

**EPISODE FIVE**

**NOWHERE TO RUN**

**Day 402**

**Becca**

The convoy of vehicles ground to a halt as they converged upon a large hardware store. Tavia's car was at the front, followed by Wyatt – driving the car of his friend, Eddie, with Russell in the passenger seat. Becca was in the back of Vince's car, her sister, Shel, next to her, with Bonnie in the passenger seat.

The vehicles stopped and the travellers climbed out. Becca was slightly nervous, still paranoid that Roman would follow them and abandon them for leaving the pit stop. They'd checked the place a ton of times, and there had been no one left, but could she be sure?

Nervously she hid behind Shel as the six of them followed the woman who'd found them – Tavia – through the parking lot.

"Wow, look at this place," Bonnie remarked in awe. "Looks kinda… homely."

"Don't get too excited yet, dude." Wyatt warned, lifting his hand, "We don't know what any of these people are like yet."

Bonnie shrugged, "Can it really be _that _bad? It seems like people are taking care of it."

"Give it time, guys," Vince said, "Go in there open minded."

They all followed on, until the automatic doors slid open and a man stepped out to greet Tavia and the new residents. He looked to be in his late forties or early fifties, with a creased, moustached face and short greying hair. He wore clean clothes and smiled kindly as his beady eyes passed over them all.

"Hello there," he said in a gravelly voice, "My name is William Carver, welcome to our home."

Vince offered the man his hand, which he shook. "Thank you for inviting us here, Mister Carver."

"Please," the man smiled, "Call me Bill."

Bonnie was staring at the doors in awe. "You have electricity." She said, exited.

"Rigged it up myself," Bill said, "I was an engineer back in the day. Hopefully you'll all stick around to see it in action."

"Perhaps they'd like the tour." Tavia offered, "Then we can assign them somewhere to sleep."

"Of course," Bill nodded, "You've been out for days, why don't you get some rest before your next shift? I'll radio you if we need anything." Tavia turned and walked inside, before disappearing. "Come along," Bill said to the group, "Walk with me."

The group of six followed the man into the settlement as he explained what they were doing there. "You look like good people, and I'll only provide sanctuary for good people. We can defend ourselves, we've got electricity and water, and enough food to last us through this bout of whatever it is – the whole 'dead rising' fiasco. The whole place is secure and we're looking to expand out of the hardware store if we gather enough people."

"Speaking of which, if you don't mind me asking," Vince said, "Just how many people do you have here?"

"We keep a list, and so far we've gathered forty-two, and you folks make forty eight, should you choose to stay." Bill explained. "Keep in mind that you will have to do chores now and again to keep the place running, but once we get more people your rotations would potentially be once a week rather than once a day."

"That sounds fair," Wyatt said, "I'd be prepared to do that; chores for protection."

"You already seem like a good man, my friend," Bill said, "And that reminds me, I didn't ask for your names – would you provide me the pleasure?"

"I'm Vince," Vince said, "This is Wyatt, Bonnie, Russell, Shel and Becca."

"A pleasure, Vincent," Bill said, and then turned to Shel, "Shel; an interesting name – I don't believe I've come across it before. Is it short for anything?"

Shel didn't immediately respond, so Becca spoke up, "Go on, tell him, _Shelley!" _She laughed, releasing an embarrassing snort.

Shel lightly cuffed her around the head as Bill chuckled. "And I assume _your _name is short for Rebecca?" He asked, turning her joke on her. She hated being referred to as that. "Luckily for you, we already have a Rebecca here, so your nickname can stick."

Becca didn't exactly understand _why _Bill was so intent on referring to people by their full names. Perhaps it was just a quirk. "Luckily for you we have a few other children here, a couple of boys who keep acting up, a girl of about five… tell me, how old are you?"

"Thirteen," Becca answered.

"Well, in that case it'd be good if you met the doctor's daughter; she's your age - a quiet girl, a bit taller than you. She's slightly… delicate, but she's eager to make friends." Bill said. Becca wasn't sure. She didn't want to be partnered with someone she didn't like.

"As for the adults," Bill continued, "You can come to my office at some point tomorrow and I'll assign you jobs, but Shelley here can remain with her sister if she chooses to."

"I'll pull my weight," Shel offered. "Becca will be fine on her own, so long as she doesn't _wander off_." She shot her sister a glare as she uttered the last two words.

"Please, take a while to settle in, and then you can come and talk to me about work duty." Bill said, "Family takes priority, especially with the world like this. Anyway, I need to attend to some business in my office, I'll radio one of the residents to meet you and show you around."

With that, he lifted a radio from his belt and called someone. Becca took a few exploratory steps around, and walked in front of an aisle. Shel called her name and she turned back around, but she didn't get anywhere because someone carrying a cardboard box knocked her over and fell to the ground himself. Becca sat on the ground as she watched a man in his twenties, with long hair, stubble and a red hat tried frantically to put packages of food back in the box.

"God damnit, son," a man said from behind, "Watch where you're goin'." Becca looked up and saw a man wearing a green jacket offer her his hand. As he helped her up, she noticed he had a slight beard and a bald head. "Sorry about that, kiddo, Nick here's got two left feet."

The younger man – Nick – pulled himself to his feet and muttered "Sorry," to Becca and began walking again with the older man in tow. Becca watched, bewildered, and then joined up with the others again. A man wearing a white t-shirt and jeans, with longish brown hair was talking to them and Bill was gone.

"…and you'll have your own places to sleep, too. I'm on guard duty today, so I can't stick around long, but I can give you guys a quick tour now and then I can show you where you can sleep after that. Sound like a plan?" The others all nodded and the man smiled warmly. "Anyway, name's Luke. Shall we get goin'? I don't want to leave my post for too long. Always gotta keep lookout for lurkers, y'know?"

"Lurkers?" Vince asked.

"The dead. Y'know, they kind of... lurk around."

As they walked, they heard a woman's voice over the tannoy. "They even have announcements, too?" Bonnie asked.

"Bonnie, your optimism is starting to freak me out." Russell said, causing Luke to laugh as he started to lead them on their tour. Their guide briefly bumped into another man, who was slightly taller, had shaggy, light brown hair and wore a camouflage shirt. "Hey, watch it." The man growled in a southern drawl as he continued walking.

"Who was that?" Vince asked, glaring at the man.

"Never mind him," Luke said, "Let's just keep goin'."

**Day 403**

**Becca**

Yesterday had been an eventful day, being shown around the settlement, meeting people and things like that, but Becca had been abandoned by the others as they went to meet Bill to talk about positions and jobs, and Becca was sour because of that.

At the time she was sitting on a bench – sitting on the table with her feet on the seat – with her chin in her right hand, bored out of her mind. She was out in the 'garden' section of the DIY store, because the weather was pleasant, but she was bored and alone. That was, until someone spoke.

"Hi."

Becca jolted in shock and turned around to see a girl sitting at the bench behind her with her hands on the table. "How long have you been there?" Becca grunted.

"Not long." The girl shook her head. She was dressed in a blue cardigan, had combed hair and wore glasses with red rims that looked to be decades out of date. "I'm Sarah." The girl said again.

"Sure you are," Becca groaned, not that interested. This seemed to be the 'doctor's daughter' Bill had mentioned earlier.

"My dad is the doctor," Sarah said, confirming Becca's suspicions. "Do you want to be friends?"

"I dunno." Becca grunted. Sarah was kind of weird, and that made Becca slightly uncomfortable. Did people really become friends by asking each other? Becca always assumed that people just realised they had things in common and got talking.

"Why don't you know?" Sarah asked. "You're not… _mean_, are you?"

"I don't know," Becca replied. She was sulking and she could be mean when she was mad, but she didn't think of herself as a bully. "I don't even know you."

"You'd know me if we were friends," Sarah sighed. "Then we'd talk all the time and we'd get to know each other. So do you wanna be friends?"

"I don't know." Becca said, "Just… leave me alone. Ask again later."

Sarah slowly rose from the bench. She looked sad. Becca didn't know why. The other girl slowly walked away from the bench and disappeared back into the hardware store. Had Becca said something to offend her?

Becca thought nothing of it. She turned away and sat back at the bench, waiting for Shel and the rest.

**Day 404**

**Becca**

Becca was tired, even though things had been uneventful since she'd arrived at the place. The past few days had been filled with awkward talks and sitting down, staring into space. It was times like this that Becca longed for Shel, but her sister was on duty most of the time.

She'd seen the man who'd knocked her over on her first day a few times, and each and every time the older man he was always with - possibly his father - told him to go and apologise to her. She feared she'd never hear the end of it. The man who'd showed them around on the first day – Luke – often crossed her path and smiled warmly at her. She felt that he did it with everyone, and his kind attitude eventually became annoying and insipid. There was a man named Reggie who kept telling rubbish jokes, which Bill always laughed at. There was a tall, blonde-haired man she saw occasionally who was seemingly never on guard duty. The camouflage-clad man who had bumped into Luke spoke to her once, telling her he was from Louisiana and aggressively insisted that he '_wrestled 'gators before everything went to shit'_, even showing her a photograph to prove it.

But at least Shel, Vince, Wyatt, Russell and Bonnie were around. Though it felt like she barely saw them, they did always make passing conversations and she'd sneak away and find them on their shifts when Bill or any of the others weren't looking. The short conversations they shared always brightened her day, even though her attitude remained blunt.

She lay down on her bedroll and stared at the high ceiling above her. A few other people were sleeping nearby; the woman who always announced things over the speakers and her husband, further away there was a middle-aged man who wore glasses, and a teenager with messy hair.

Becca sighed. In three years she'd turn sixteen and she'd be eligible for guard duty with the rest. It was just a matter of time.

She sighed once more, and sure enough, she felt the warm embrace of sleep not soon after. Things could only get better.


	39. You'll Rise Again

**Day 875 - Morning**

**Wyatt**

Becca jerked as she woke up. She lifted her head and Wyatt saw that her fringe was stuck to her face with sweat, even though it was freezing outside with snow on the ground. They had cauterised the three slashes on her arm while she'd been unconscious.

"How are you holding up, dude?" Wyatt asked, "You've been out for hours."

Becca pushed her hair off of her forehead. "I'm fine." She looked around the room and took note of the people there. It was only Wyatt, Becca, Annie and Vince. "Where are the others?" Becca asked. "Where are we?"

"We got out, we're in Indianapolis." Wyatt said.

Vince was twirling the lighter in his hands. "I set one of their legs on fire with this," he said, avoiding eye contact, "so thanks for that. We got away... some of us got away."

"The others are dead?" Becca asked, her eyes wide.

"Russell got shot twice; one in the shoulder, once in the knee. Daniel tried to stab that 'Ivan' asshole and the prick turned the knife on him and stuck it in his stomach – he ran off with Lucia. They ditched us."

"Ralph got killed back in the mall, if you're wondering," Wyatt added.

"And Miles?" Becca asked.

"He bought us time. Told the guy he knew who killed that guy in the mall so I could use this lighter and so Daniel could free his hands and grab a knife. It could've gone better, considering he's dead."

"What?!" Becca cried out.

"He couldn't buy us enough time," Vince sighed, "so he told the fucker he shot the guy – which he didn't because I was right next to him at the time. Bastard told him to go 'wait over there' and he shot him three times while his back was turned."

It was true. Wyatt kept replaying the events over in his mind. Miles' final words had been 'please,' - a desperate request for mercy. It only pained Wyatt more knowing what he did – he had been the one to shoot the bandit.

Becca pulled her knees into her chest and rested her head on them, wrapping her arms around her shins. A gentle whimper echoed through the dark room as Becca grieved Miles. The poor kid just couldn't catch a break.

"So," Vince said, breaking the silence, "Who did it?"

Wyatt's stomach sank. He was trapped in a corner; he wasn't willing to blame Ralph or Russell, both of whom were dead. Lucia and Daniel hadn't been armed. Becca and Miles had been with Vince, and he could confirm that it had been neither of them and he sure as hell wasn't going to pin it on Annie.

"Fuck," he groaned, "It was me, all right? It was me."

Vince's head slowly turned to look at him. "Honestly, I wasn't expecting an answer considering how well you kept it to yourself when that prick beat me up, near killed Becca and held a gun to Annie's head."

"Look, man, I don't want to do this. Let's just rest, okay?" Wyatt said desperately.

"You don't have a _choice_." Vince snarled, lifting himself to his feet, "This is all on you. It's all your fault. Ralph's dead because your shot drew the attention of walkers. Miles is dead because that bandit's crew came back to bite us in the ass. Daniel's stabbed because of you. Becca's gonna have a scar _**because of you**_. You're a fucking idiot, Wyatt."

"You think I don't know that?" Wyatt mumbled.

"The fuck did you say?" Vince growled.

"I said 'you think I don't know that?' You think that hasn't been playing over and over in my head, dude? I keep hearing what Miles said before that asshole put him down. I keep seeing his face and I'm gonna for a fuckin' long time. That asshole killed Miles, I didn't pull the trigger, _**so fuckin' lay off and quit pinning this bullshit on me, you fuckin' prick!**_" With that, he gave Vince an almighty shove that knocked him backwards. The man collapsed on a chair and looked up at Wyatt, who was in no mood to deal with any more of this. He looked Vince in the eye and growled, "You shouldn't be the guy lecturing me about murder, considering your history."

On that note, Wyatt turned and left the room, slamming the door and shutting Vince, Annie and Becca behind him. He stomped down the stairs and found his way into the living room of the house they were camping in. The room had a wide, large window that looked out onto the street and the suburbs beyond. It was silent here, there wasn't even a walker to be seen. Perhaps that outpost did exist and the people there had done a good job of clearing out the city.

Wyatt stared out of the window for a good few minutes with his hands in his pockets until he heard a faint humming noise. He concentrated, scowling, until a hint of light appeared further up the road. Instantly he knew what it was.

"Shit!" He yelled, and then ran back up the stairs. Slamming the door of the upstairs room open, he shouted at Vince, who had the lighter flicked on. "Turn it off! That truck's rolling down the road!"

Vince scowled at him, but didn't argue, releasing the lighter and plunging them into darkness. Wyatt lifted a curtain slightly and stared out of the window. Sure enough, Ivan's truck was slowly rolling down the road, Donald and Ethan in the bed of the vehicle, standing up as it moved gradually down the street. They were both scanning the houses; if they even saw the curtain move they'd come into the house, so Wyatt waited for them to turn their backs before he let the curtain fall.

"We have to get out of here." He said. "They're coming." He stood up and reached for his backpack, before realising that he no longer owned it and that Ivan's group had taken it from him.

Vince agreed with him, probably deciding that the situation took precedence over Wyatt killing the bandit. "We'll take the back door." He helped Becca up and then pulled her out of the room.

Wyatt ran over to Annie and grabbed her hand, then picked her up and carried her out of the room, not willing to let her run on her own, fearing she'd end up left behind. They ran down the stairs, attempting to make as little noise as possible and followed Vince, who kicked the back door open and ran out into the garden. Both men had to put down Becca and Annie as the fences were high and they needed to climb over them.

Wyatt looked at Vince. "You first," he said, linking his hands together so that Vince could climb over.

"Why don't we get those two to safety first?" Vince asked.

"Because I'm not willing to throw either of those into a garden that could have walkers in there, but I'm less concerned for you, dude."

Vince scowled and climbed over the fence. "Clear." He said. Wyatt helped Becca up next, then Annie, before struggling over himself. "They probably can't see or hear us now," Vince said.

"Where do we go now?" Becca asked.

"We could look for Russell." Wyatt offered.

"We don't know where Russell would be." Vince said, "If we can locate that Outpost we might be able to get some supplies and maybe find Daniel and Lucia."

Wyatt shrugged, "I want to look for Russell, I'm not just gonna leave him without trying, but getting supplies makes sense to me."

Vince nodded and broke into a jog, running up the garden to break into the next house so that they could go through it and get onto the road. Becca followed, walking slowly, while Annie and Wyatt shared an awkward glance and then made a move too.


	40. This I'll Trust

**Day 875 - Morning**

**Becca**

Becca plodded down the street after Vince as Wyatt and Annie brought up the rear. She was thinking about how she couldn't catch a break. She'd almost ended up some sort of sick walker experiment, Shel had been killed, she'd been bitten, lost half of her hand, Miles had been killed, Russell was missing and they were on the run from bandits.

They kept to the side of the road, fearing that terrible truck would turn the corner at any minute and they'd have to run. Becca was trusting the others to keep watch for that; she was busy staring at the singed flesh on her left forearm; three linked lines – two horizontal, one vertical. They formed the letter 'I'. 'I' for 'Ivan'. That scar, like the one on her face, the one the amputation would leave, and the damage inflicted on her mind, would never heal fully. She was stuck with it for the rest of her life.

Becca sighed and wiped her brow, turning her attention to her bandaged right hand. The pain was dull now, rather than the sharp tinge it had possessed the day prior. The strip of fabric they'd used as a bandage was caked with dried blood, a browning red colour. The temptation to look at her missing digits was immense, but she held it together and didn't take the bandage off, knowing she'd never manage to get it on again.

"How you holdin' up, dude?" Wyatt asked, walking alongside Becca, with Annie in tow. He immediately retracted his question as Vince stormed on ahead. "Ah, fuck, what sort of question is that? You're doing shit, aren't you?"

Becca nodded and confirmed his suspicions. "Yeah."

"You heard us, right? This is all my fault. Blame me." He sighed.

Becca shook her head. "Two and a half weeks ago I would've blamed you." She exhaled deeply and wiped the sweat from her brow as a cloud of breath broke from her lips and she trod in the falling snow. "Now I blame the asshole who shot Miles. You were protecting the group when you shot that bandit, that guy wasn't. He was killing for the sake of killing. I don't blame you for what happened to Miles any more than I blame Miles himself for what happened to my sister." She shrugged, "We can't look into the future. A lot more people would be alive if we could."

Wyatt nodded and hesitated for a second. "Whaddya think of this 'outpost'? Do you reckon it's just a pipe dream or something?"

"For word to spread around about it there must have been something there at some point." She shrugged, "It might be nothing now, but it was definitely something once."

"You're oddly optimistic considering everything that's happened." Wyatt admitted.

"Tell me about it. I think it's the only thing stopping me from going insane." She smirked. "Look at me, I'm a mess. Scars, a fucking amputation, life is terrible. But we still had a year and a half at Carver's, and that was good compared to three weeks of absolute shit. There's gotta be something out there like this again. We're gonna find it or die trying."

"Seems like the second option is more likely." Wyatt moaned.

"Yup." Becca said. "Four of us left now."

"No guns." Wyatt remarked.

"No food." Becca added.

"No anything." Annie said, walking to Becca's right.

"Kid's right, you know," Wyatt sighed, "And that's what makes me scared. All we've got is a lighter. If we can find Daniel and Lucia then we'll have a knife and a gun, but that's still only one gun between six."

"Five." Vince grunted from ahead, "Daniel got stabbed in the gut. There's no coming back from that."

"Fuck." Wyatt sighed.

"What if there are people who will help us?" Annie said. "People at the Outpost. Good people."

Becca looked at Annie and held eye contact as they walked through the white snow. For a second her old self shined through and almost made a pessimistic, snarky remark, but then she smiled, nodded and said, "Hold onto that hope."

Annie smiled back. Becca felt a little less empty.

"We're running on fumes." Vince sighed, "How long can we go on?"

"Long enough to get somewhere." Annie replied with determination.

"I'm walking till I drop." Becca growled. She felt like a pile of shit with a headache, but she was determined to continue. She wasn't going to give up after Shel, Ralph, and now Miles, had died for the group.

"I remember when this started." She sighed, "This whole... journey, not the outbreak walker thing. Shel woke me up, told me to leave our little hovel. I almost ignored her and went back to sleep until I heard that woman doing the voice over – the pre-recorded one – and then I was up like a shot."

"How'd you know there were walkers?" Wyatt asked, intrigued.

"I didn't," Becca chuckled, "I just wanted the bitch to shut up so I could sleep."

"I wonder what happened to the guards." Wyatt pondered. "They were on the roof when we left. I think I saw a walker creeping up on her in one of the wing-mirrors."

"Probably dead." Becca said bluntly. "Reckon she came back? Troy did and we saw how much meat they took off of him. He was almost a skeleton with a face."

"Guys." Vince said, hushing them as he held up his hand. "Look." Slowly his hand tilted forwards as he pointed his index finger ahead. Becca leaned out from behind him and saw a huge container truck sitting at the end of the road, where it wouldn't have normally belonged. Becca looked further and saw huge, black letters painted across the white container. The letters spelled a word, which read:

"OUTPOST"

Followed by an arrow pointing to their right, down the next street.

"What do we do?" Becca asked.

"Follow the signs." Wyatt said. "We've got nothing better to do. Stay out here and die in the cold or go there and see if they have supplies and people."

"Shit, we have to get there!" Vince called, and with a new lease of life he ran to the corner of the street. Wyatt, Annie and Becca attempted to follow, but the latter felt a rush of dizziness in her head and collapsed onto one knee.

"Are you okay?" She heard Annie ask.

"I'm fine," She groaned, struggling to her feet. She felt an extreme rush through her head, like a blast of wind had passed through her eyes and hit the back of her skull. She took a few deep breaths and then rubbed her eyes until she decided she'd regained her vigour. "Let's just... not take things too quickly, okay?"

She saw Wyatt nod from further up the road as Vince spoke. "If those assholes see that sign they'll no where we're going. We need to put as much distance between them and us, but we'll go at Becca's pace. If we go too fast she might faint and we need _everyone _if something happens."

"I'm fine." Becca insisted once more. "Now, come on. Let's go."


	41. In Our Hearts

**Day 875 – Late Morning**

**Vince**

Following the truck, there were numerous signs pointing in the direction of the Outpost. Vince led the group, changing direction when required.

"Do you think Daniel and Lucia made it there?" Wyatt asked.

Vince shrugged. He was still pissed off at Wyatt for shooting that bandit in the mall and subsequently causing the deaths of Miles and Ralph, but they had bigger fish to fry. "From what I saw they ran off that road and headed in this direction while we ran further off. If they kept running then they may have found their way there."

"I keep forgetting about that gut wound Daniel took. It didn't look healthy." Wyatt remarked.

"From what I can tell, he's a goner." Vince sighed, "Add another one to the list."

"Maybe we should just concentrate on getting there." Becca suggested. "Thinking about death all the time is stupid."

"_We're _still alive." Annie added.

Vince sighed. Maybe they were right; they needed to focus on the task at hand rather than the futility of it all. Vince was concerned because the group had nothing to defend themselves with. If they ended up being found by those bandits again they'd be screwed.

It was cold too. Winter had come without warning, snow falling overnight and covering the ground by the morning. As they'd escaped Ivan and his gang, Vince had witnessed the first few flakes turn to flurries which they used as a sort of smokescreen to cover their tracks. Now it was incredibly cold and not even his heavy coat could fully keep it at bay.

He flicked his lighter and cupped his free hand around it.

"How much fuel you got left in that?" Wyatt asked.

"Not a lot." Vince grunted in reply.

"I think I know a way we can use it better." Wyatt said, stopping by a car. Vince turned and saw him holding a large wooden shaft, which he smashed one of the windows with. He reached in and pulled out what looked like an old sweater and wrapped it around the end of the shaft.

"That noise probably just alerted the whole neighbourhood of walkers." Vince sighed.

"Bear with me." Wyatt said, humming. He opened the fuel tank and pushed the shaft inside. Vince understood what he was doing now.

"I really doubt there's any fuel in there." Vince said, "It's probably expired now, anyway."

Wyatt withdrew the pole with a smug grin on his face. The sweater tied around the top was slightly damp. "No matter how hard people try, they can't empty it all. Now light me up, dude."

Vince groaned and held the lighter up to the makeshift torch. Instantly they heard a whoosh and the tool was surrounded with a weak flame.

"Not the best." Vince said.

"Give it time." Wyatt replied, seeming tired of Vince's touchiness.

Wyatt turned the torch to Annie and Becca, who both smiled and cupped their hands to the warmth of the torch. Vince grunted cynically – he was losing their support. Between cutting Becca's hand in half, losing so many people and Wyatt winning them over it seemed like what was left of the group was fracturing. He'd tried to do the right thing, he'd thought he'd made the right decisions, but had he truly done that?

Leaving the hardware store had ended with Laura's death.

Hunting for the source of the noise in Marshall's house had ended with Shel's death.

Leaving Daniel and Lucia defenseless had cost them Ralph's life, and later Miles's. Trying to escape ended with Daniel getting stabbed and Russell disappearing.

Vince had looked at it from so many viewpoints and it always traced back to him. Was it really his fault for all of this? No wonder Becca had lost faith in him, and he hadn't made the situation with Wyatt any better by blaming him.

Maybe it was time to step down and let someone else lead. Maybe it wouldn't result in death and if it did then it wouldn't be his fault for once.

Then he looked at the group. Himself, Wyatt, Annie and Becca. An ex-convict, an ex-pot smoker, a kid and a half-dead teenager. Could any of them really lead a group? Did the group need to be led? Was it possible to discuss everything through and make a group decision?

No. It wasn't. Sometimes there were spur-of-the-moment decisions that couldn't be discussed. For those someone had to step up and do the hard thing and that would always mean leadership was imbalanced in their favour.

Vince's train of thought was disrupted by Annie, who had slipped on something as they walked. She crouched and cleared the snow from where she had slipped.

"Don't pick that up, who knows where it's been?" Wyatt said, lightly touching her shoulder.

"We know where it's been." Annie said, sounding afraid. She lifted her hand, revealing a familiar cyan coloured hat with a blue stripe through it. "This is Daniel's."

"Shit!" Vince said. "They came this way!"

Wyatt pulled Annie into a tight hug, lifting her off her feet and spinning her around. "Good job, dude!" Becca even patted her on the back and smiled.

All of a sudden things seemed less desperate. They were on the trail of Daniel and Lucia, and only because Annie's foot happened to fall on that tiny patch of ground.

"Come on," Vince said, slightly less tense, "Let's get going." The group started to pick up speed before Vince had to stop them. "Slowly! We don't want to lose our breath." He looked at Becca in particular. She looked back, then hunched over slightly and coughed a few times. The group moved closer to her until she held up her hand to stop them. "Still fine." She said. "I'm fine."

Another sign reading the word 'Outpost' was located further up the road. This time it was a large board of wood with the words written in red. As they closed in on it Vince saw why they had not noticed any walkers yet; there was a large pile of corpses behind the sign. Someone had definitely wanted that outpost to work, and they'd killed all the walkers in the area and dragged them behind the sign to make a statement. They were telling whoever passed through that it was safe.

Vince looked closer at the walker bodies. It could either be interpreted as a sign of safety or as a warning, something to ward off anyone passing through. Something that told them "This could be _you_."


	42. Till The End

**Day 875 – Late Morning**

**Wyatt**

It took a while but the group slowly followed the signs and made their way out of the suburbs and into the city of Indianapolis. With their group containing who it did, none of them really recognised the sights or the buildings. All they took note of was that the city was formed from skyscrapers, bridges and landmarks. It would be hard to work out which one was the outpost.

"We must be getting close by now," Vince said, "These signs can't go on forever."

He was right. They had to end somewhere, and then they'd find the elusive Outpost. The group was drained of energy, Becca in particular. Wyatt didn't know how she found the strength to go on – maybe she was running on autopilot now.

He held his torch aloft as Vince pointed out the next sign. They started to walk until they heard a familiar humming.

"Shit, get down, get cover!" Vince said, instantly knowing the source of the noise. Wyatt regretfully extinguished his torch and ducked behind a car that was parked halfway behind the pavement. Vince and Becca ducked behind a bush further back and Annie hid behind a group of trash cans.

Sure enough, Ivan's truck rounded the corner and crawled along the street, Ethan and Donald scanning the surroundings as they stood in the bed of the truck. Wyatt heard music, and traced it back to the music player in the truck. Oddly enough, Ivan was playing 'Highway to Hell' on the radio as he drove. The last music Wyatt had heard was the jingle that played over the hardware store speakers.

He thought they were in the clear until the brakes squealed and the truck ceased to move. Wyatt saw Vince and Becca look panicked as he heard a door opening and feet hitting the ground. If they even so much as walked in front of behind of the car he was crouching to the side of they'd spot him.

He froze for a second and then decided he needed to do something. He grabbed the now extinguished torch, not willing to leave it behind in case they saw it, and got onto his stomach, pushing himself beneath the car as Ivan's crew left the truck. He could see their feet moving around and he could just about make out the passenger seat window.

Ivan rolled down the window and leaned out, talking to his group. "Check around here. They've been walking, we've been in a truck. They can't be far."

Wyatt sighed in relief. It seemed like Ivan was the cleverest of the group, and he was staying in the truck. If he got out he'd surely notice something incriminating that the other three would miss.

"Man, my neck still fuckin' kills," Brandon, the one Wyatt had strangled the night before, grunted. "When I get my hands on the fucker with the beard..." he slammed his fist into his palm. Wyatt instinctively flinched as he hid under the car.

"Don't even know what we're lookin' for." Ethan groaned. "This is fuckin' boring."

"Why are we even goin' after these guys anyway?" Donald asked, "_He _already killed the one we were lookin' for."

"Don't ask questions," Brandon said, his voice fading as he moved further away. "That fucker tried to stab Ivan, and that other asshole tried to kill me."

"_No I didn't,"_ Wyatt thought,_ "I deliberately tried to avoid killing you."_

Wyatt heard the sound of feet dragging across the frosted ground. Luckily footprints wouldn't be a problem because the ground was coated in slippery ice rather than snow.

"Fuck all here, boss." Donald groaned.

"Give it a second scan." Brandon growled.

"I wasn't talking to you." Donald spat. Wyatt heard a creaking as the bandit climbed into the truck bed.

Ethan's voice shocked Wyatt, as it came from the other side of the car, where he'd previously been hiding. If he hadn't acted fast and hid underneath the car Ethan would have found him and then the others, and it'd all be over.

"Jack-shit here. This is fuckin' bullshit, we're in the fuckin' capital of Indiana, there's too many places for them to hide."

"We _know _where they're going, idiot." Brandon told him. "We just have to get there and deal with 'em."

"This is one huge waste of time." Donald said. "Just get back in the car. Let's do another circuit, see if they're further back."

Wyatt heard the sounds of footsteps and then a car door slamming, followed by muffled speaking in the cab. The engine started up and the truck skidded away on the ice. He waited for about three or four minutes, and then slowly crawled out from beneath the car. Vince, Annie and Becca followed suit and crept out from their hiding spots.

"That was close," Vince said, "Good idea getting under the car; if he'd seen you just then..."

"I would've got what I deserved. They would've killed me. I know." Wyatt grunted.

"I was _worried_ that he was gonna kill you." Vince said, and then turned to the other two. "Come on, let's go."

Wyatt picked up his extinguished torch with numb hands as he felt the ice melting on his jacket.

"Come on, we gotta get to the Outpost, dudes. I heard them say they were gonna go further back, we've got a little bit more time than we thought." Wyatt said.

"More good news." Becca sighed in relief as the group started walking.

**Day 875 – Midday**

**Wyatt**

There it was – the outpost. Vince, Annie, Becca and Wyatt stared up at an office building that sat at the end of a junction with skyscrapers on either side. A long time ago people would have been walking around, going to work, but now the place was abandoned, snowy and beaten beyond repair.

The outpost itself was no different. The entrance was set back slightly, the first floor upwards forming a sort of overhang, columns holding it up as it stretched over the double doors. Some of the windows on the bottom floor were cracked and smashed, but Wyatt couldn't work out why looters would want office supplies.

"Fancy." Becca said. "But it doesn't look like anyone's home."

"Hopefully it's as Lucia said – a stop off on the way somewhere further north." Vince said. "There might be some people in here, but we're looking for supplies more than anything."

"Might as well go inside." Wyatt suggested, "It's only gonna get colder out here. Once we're in we can find the other two, grab some supplies and go look for Russell."

"Yeah." Annie said, agreeing with him.

"I'm not sure if that's possible, but we'll try." Vince said. "We have no idea where Russell is. I hope he made it out okay, but we can't be sure."

Wyatt wasn't happy with Vince's pessimism, but he knew he was probably right.

The group of four pushed open the door to the building, and crept inside, wary of traps or any sign of an ambush. The place felt deserted.

Wyatt crept forward, past a reception desk, and saw spatters of blood on the ground, with two sets of footprints pressed into them.

"That blood isn't old." Vince said, "It hasn't been here long."

Wyatt moved past a reception desk and pushed open a false wooden door with a circular window in it. He slowly trod forwards into a large room filled with office cubicles, followed by the other three, and he was met with the sight of a man sitting in a swivel chair, his shirt pulled up, exposing a horrid gash that was haphazardly sewn together. The man weakly lifted a pale hand and waved at the group as Wyatt looked at his baggy eyes.

"Hey, kids," Daniel groaned, his voice dry and weak, "Finally made it, then?"


	43. We'll Meet Again

**Day 875 – Late Morning**

**Becca**

Daniel erupted into a stream of coughs, a sickening but light spray of blood coating his curled fist. "Jesus Christ, that hurts," he sighed, looking down at the poorly sewn gash across his stomach. "Shit, man."

"Where's Lucia?" Vince asked, looking around the room. It was filled with office cubicles, which Becca thought was odd for a post-apocalyptic outpost.

"She's... she's around..." Daniel replied, coughing again and then wiping his hand on his rolled up shirt. "Think she went... looking in some of the other buildings for... stuff."

"She left you here?" Becca asked, concerned, "On your own?"

"Let's face it, kid... I'm kinda screwed here - Got a huge fucking... hole in my gut, folks." Daniel sighed. "Kinda numb, though... doesn't really hurt, which is... weird."

Annie walked up to him and handed him his hat. "We found this." She said. "I accidentally stood on it, sorry."

Daniel rubbed his scalp; his hair was thin for a man of around thirty years old, which was presumably why he wore the hat. He took the hat, held it up and then looked back at Annie. "Tell you what," he said, "You... hold onto that. Probably looks better on you than me anyway." He smirked as he planted the cap on Annie's head. "Wait... hold on." He twisted the cap so it was on backwards. "There we go. That's better."

Annie smiled at him and then walked back to Wyatt and Vince.

"But... yeah... Lucy tried patching up her arm and she's gone looking... for stuff. Not sure how I made it here, in all honesty." Daniel admitted.

"You seem oddly chilled about this, man. I mean, you're stabbed. You might die." Wyatt said.

Daniel shifted on his swivel chair and winced in pain. "Had to die at some point." He gulped as he crushed his eyes shut. "There's some... supplies over..." he trailed off and took a deep breath. "Over there. Supplies. We think... a group came and... had extra shit that they left."

The group nodded and started heading in the direction that Daniel had pointed them in. "You get some rest." Vince said, all too aware that the wound was probably going to kill Daniel.

"Uh... if I don't make it, just... look after Lucy for me, will you?" He groaned and clutched his stomach again.

Becca wasn't sure how Lucia would react if she found Daniel dead. It'd be a horrible experience for anyone, but Becca couldn't help but wonder if it would have been better to find Shel dead or to see her get killed like she had. Nevertheless, she couldn't change it now.

She followed Vince, Wyatt and Annie – who was now sporting Daniel's hat – over to a corner of the room filled with cardboard boxes. It was obvious by this point that the Outpost had been permanently occupied by some people, though some well-off groups passed through occasionally and dropped off any 'surplus' that they had. Presumably these groups were remnants of the military or people who got a head start with the initial looting during the outbreak.

Becca rooted through a box, finding nothing but old clothes and junk. She only used her left hand, fearing what would happen if she put any strain on her halved right hand. The blistered flesh on her left arm stung, but it wasn't as bad as the slits from the night before.

Becca instinctively retracted her hand as she pricked it on something. Reaching back in, but being careful this time, she cheered internally as she lifted a survival knife from the box. Part of the blade was serrated and it'd be devastating to any walker that came her way.

Vince walked over to her and handed over a pistol. "We found three." He said. "Annie doesn't know how to use one and Lucia probably has one already. Just try and keep as much ammo as you can, because we couldn't find a whole lot."

Becca took the pistol and tucked it into her waistband. "Thanks," she said, and then showed him the knife. "I found this, too."

"Keep hold of it," Vince said, "You're probably better with it than me."

His words caused her to cast her mind back three weeks, to the night that the undead Troy attacked Vince and she stabbed it in the back of the head. _"Yeah,"_ she thought, _"I am better with it than you." _She smirked at the thought.

"We should go and look for Lucia." Wyatt said. "Between us four, Daniel isn't looking too good. I think she'd rather be here with him than out there to come back to his dead body."

"Sounds like a plan." Vince agreed, "But let's keep an eye out for those bandits. Who knows when they might show up?"

The group gathered some things and then headed out of the building, passing Daniel without saying anything. There was no time to explain; they had to find Lucia and get back before he expired. It wasn't like he was in any state to converse, anyway, because he had become even more pale than before and he was hardly moving, just watching them as he sat there, looking deathly ill.

Becca was halted by Wyatt as she left the building with Annie trailing behind her. She looked past the man and saw a figure at the end of the street, pointing a gun at them.

They took a few steps forwards until they were stopped with a yell. "Fucking stop there!"

It was Lucia's voice, and as Becca looked closer she saw the woman's right arm hanging to one side, her left arm shaking as it held up a pistol.

"It's us, dude!" Wyatt called back. "It's fine!"

"I know who it is!" Lucia cried back, her voice wavering. "Now stop!"

The group halted in their tracks. Lucia stepped closer, and Becca could see her right arm was heavily bandaged, though it was still crooked from where Ivan had practically snapped it in half.

"You can put the gun down." Wyatt said.

"Don't threaten me." Lucia growled. "I know what this is."

"What? I'm not..." Wyatt asked, confused.

"What happened to Dan, this is all _your_ fault. If you hadn't taken our guns in the mall, I'd be fine, Dan would be fine and we wouldn't be in the process of being hunted down right now."

"What are you doing?" Vince asked, and then chuckled slightly. "Are you seriously going to _shoot _us?"

"Don't test me!" Lucia growled, turning the pistol on him. She scowled, but Becca could see her expression wavering slightly, providing a hint of regret or fear. She needed to capitalise on that.

"Look at what you're doing," she said. "You're pointing a gun at us, just like that guy in the mall did to you – and you know that none of us want that again."

Lucia looked at the ground, doubting herself, as Becca continued. "Like you keep saying, you're a _nurse_, not a bandit. You don't hurt people, you_ help_ them."

"I'm just... I just... need to..." Lucia said.

"You don't need to explain." Becca said. "You feel helpless, right now, don't you? Time's slipping away and you're trying to delay the inevitable. It's horrible."

Lucia's face dropped. She lowered the gun and turned to Becca. "How do you know?"

"Because the same thing happened to my older sister. She got shot in the chest and I couldn't do anything but talk to her as she slipped away from me." Becca sighed as the painful memories came flooding back.

"Oh, god." Lucia groaned. "I have to see him." She pushed past the group and ran into the outpost building. The others turned and trailed behind.

As she walked back into the Outpost, Becca looked over her shoulder, wary of any sign that those bandits would show up. When they did, the group would have to be ready.


	44. Depart, My Friend

**Day 875 – Late Morning**

**Wyatt**

"Daniel!" Lucia cried as she ran into the Outpost. She ran up to the injured man, who was slumped in a swivel chair, his face pale and drooping. He was breathing, but only slightly.

"Heeyyyy, Lucy!" Daniel chuckled, "How you been?"

Lucia was about to reply until Daniel coughed and sprayed her face with blood. "Sorry," he groaned, "I didn't mean it."

"I know you didn't, you dope." Lucia replied.

"You know... I, uh... if it's um... over, then I just wanna say that I love you, Luce." Daniel sighed. His head collapsed to the side, his breathing rapid as Lucia stroked his cheek.

Wyatt looked at Daniel, panicked. "What do we do?" He asked.

"Come on," Lucia said, dropping the tense attitude she'd been holding onto before and running through into the next room. She rooted through boxes as the others followed suit.

"What are we looking for?" Vince asked. "What's up?"

"His stitches have fallen out." Lucia said, wiping her fringe off of her face, "We don't have much time, we need to find something to hold his wound together before he bleeds out."

Wyatt saw Becca and Annie reaching into boxes, looking for anything that could help. He decided to do whatever he could and grabbed another box, looking for medical supplies.

Lucia had snapped back to her 'old' self, albeit a panicky and flustered version. At any rate, it was an improvement over the woman who had aimed a gun at them not long before.

Daniel was maybe twenty five metres away, but they couldn't see him through the door, and they couldn't tell what state he was in, though he hadn't been looking too well a minute ago.

"Anything?!" Lucia called, her voice wavering.

"Nothing." Vince grunted as he threw a box to the ground.

"There must be medical supplies somewhere." Becca said, rooting through her third box.

"We found some earlier," Lucia said, "I stitched his stomach with some makeshift stuff but we didn't have much."

"Wyatt," Vince said, "Go in there and see how he's doing. Try and keep him conscious."

"Will do." Wyatt said, and turned to push the double doors open.

He stepped back into the cubicle filled hall and briskly walked down the aisle, searching for anything they could use to help Daniel. Nothing caught his eye, except for some paper with names and locations written on it. He looked at it briefly, shrugged, and pocketed it.

Wyatt saw Daniel sitting in the swivel chair, blood pouring from the gash on his stomach. His head was slumped, hanging loosely by his shoulder.

"Daniel? Daniel... dude?" Wyatt asked. He stepped closer to the man and put his hand on his shoulder, giving it a worried shake. "You okay, man?"

Daniel's stomach wasn't rising and falling with breath. "Shit," Wyatt muttered, "Shit. What do I do?" He looked back at the door in panic, where the others were.

Something darted out the corner of his eye. Wyatt was pushed forward, landing on his chest, his pistol flying out of his grasp. Winded, he tried to crawl forwards but there was nothing to hold onto. He flipped onto his back and saw Daniel's body with both hands around his ankle. His eyes were pale and lifeless, his mouth hanging, slack-jawed like every other walker in the world.

As he exhaled rapidly, Wyatt lifted his free leg and shoved his foot into one of the walker's wrists in an attempt to shake it off. He struggled with it for a while, but the walker wouldn't relent as it still had the strength of a fresh body rather than being partially decayed.

The walker gurgled and groaned as it kept pulling. Wyatt put his palms on the carpet behind him and pushed, moving his entire body backwards and away from the walker. Its arms stretched but it dragged itself forwards on its knees as Wyatt gasped. How odd it should come to this; he'd only met this man a couple of days ago and now he was fighting his corpse.

Daniel's body crawled atop him as he grabbed its wrists, desperately trying to hold it off. It wasn't Daniel any more, just a body. Strangely enough, Wyatt's greatest concern was what Lucia would make of this.

He couldn't roll over, he couldn't push the body away from him, he couldn't get it off. Maybe he was fucked. "Guys?" He called weakly. "Anyone?!"

The mouth of Daniel's walker darted for his wrist, which he pulled back in fear. The walker was put off balance for a millisecond, but Wyatt managed to twist and throw the dead weight off of him. As it rolled across the floor, he pushed himself up into a crouch. It climbed to its feet as he staggered away, winded, and launched another attack, catching up to him with its arms outstretched. Wyatt turned in horror as he saw it advance.

And then something powered through the head of Daniel's undead body, killing the creature that his body had come. The bag of bones collapsed to the ground and let out a final hiss of trapped air.

Wyatt turned from staring at Daniel's body and saw Becca standing in the open double doors, a pistol shaking in her hands. "I... didn't want to. I had to." She said, trying to justify her actions.

"Don't worry." Wyatt said calmly. "You saved me."

Becca was barged out of the way as Lucia, Vince and Annie ran into the room. Lucia took one look at Daniel's body, with its pale skin and white eyes, and collapsed to her knees, her lip trembling and tears forming in her eyes. Daniel lay on his back, dead a second time.

Wyatt kneeled down and closed Daniel's eyes with one hand, shutting his mouth with the other, so he looked like a dead human, and not a dead walker. His face was intact as the bullet had passed through the left side of his head, above the ear.

Lucia collapsed onto her dead boyfriend's chest, moaning in grief. Wyatt slowly stood up and walked back to the others, his head hanging in shame. Becca was still holding her gun, her eyes wide, seeming to contemplate her actions.

Wyatt looked at Vince. "What do we do?"

Vince stared at Lucia, who was weeping, her head resting on Daniel's chest. "Lucia?" He asked, wincing in preparation for her to shout for him. Wyatt wouldn't blame her for doing so.

"What?" She moaned.

"What do you want us to do?" Vince asked. "Do you need us to stay?"

Lucia didn't reply.

Becca put her pistol back into her waistband and crossed her arms, hunched over and shivering. She walked over to Annie, patted the child's shoulder and guided her away, where she couldn't see the body of Daniel, coughing as she walked.

"We need to find Russell." Wyatt said.

Vince slowly turned his head to look at him. "Do you think she's safe here?" He asked.

"Safe? What do you mean?"

Vince lowered his voice to a whisper. "Safe, secure. Do you think we can _leave _her? She needs time, and time's not what we have. We give her the time she needs; we leave, we find Russell, deal with the bandits and come back when we _do _have time."

"I don't know, man, what if she's suicidal?" Wyatt questioned, glancing at Lucia.

"I don't think she's gonna kill herself, but I don't think we can take her. It's not that she'll slow us down, I just think this is in her best interest to let her have the time she needs."

"We need to talk to her." Wyatt decided, and walked over to crouch next to Lucia.

"We're gonna go." He said.

"Good." She grunted, not looking at him, her head still rested on Daniel's chest.

"We'll go find Russell and deal with the fucker who stabbed Daniel, okay?" He sounded uneasy, not knowing what he meant by 'dealing with Ivan'. "You just take the time you need, maybe get some rest. We'll come back for you."

"Don't even bother. Just leave me." Lucia groaned. "I want to be left alone. I need to think."

"We'll come back." Wyatt nodded and got back to his feet. Sighing, he nudged his head towards the exit, telling Vince they should leave. On the way he tapped Annie's shoulder and led her out.

The group of four walked out into the reception of the building. Wyatt turned and looked at Lucia, who was still weeping over Daniel, and then the double doors closed, obscuring her from sight.

Wyatt wasn't happy with the decision to leave her, but she was safe in the Outpost. The place was secure enough and she seemed to be in her right mind. If walkers got in, Wyatt was sure she'd know what to do.

It made him sad, though. Ever since they'd met, Lucia had been hell-bent on making it to the Outpost.

She'd made it there, but the cost hadn't been worth it.


	45. Know You're Near

**Day 875 – Midday**

**Vince**

The group had left Lucia behind to grieve. Vince wasn't entirely sure he'd made the right call, but he wasn't going to pull her away from Daniel if that wasn't what she wanted. She had no obligation to their group.

They were leaving the outpost and making their way back to the road to search for Russell. There was nothing at the outpost for them, and staying there would probably put Lucia in more danger as the bandits would follow them. If they went there anyway they'd probably kill her, but hopefully they'd just follow the footprints that Vince's group had left behind, leading out of the Outpost and back to the road.

Vince led the group, with Wyatt by his side, Annie and Becca bringing up the rear. Becca's coughing was getting worse, probably a product of the cold rather than the blood loss and injuries she'd suffered. Vince could establish that she wasn't infected because she had lived past the average time limit; usually people who were infected lasted a day or so, but it had been about a day and a half since the initial bite. That said, she wasn't in good shape.

For a second Vince could hear something, a bustling, buzzing type of noise, but his attention was diverted by Becca, who erupted into a mess of violent coughs, collapsing to her knees.

"Becca?" Vince asked, grabbing her arm. "Becca?!"

"Are you okay?" Wyatt asked.

Becca hunched over on her knees as she coughed. "I... can't. I can't keep going."

"You're not giving up now." Vince growled, "I won't let you."

"But I can't even... get up. How am I... supposed to keep... going?" Becca spluttered.

Vince looked at Wyatt. "Pick her up." He said, "We're not leaving her behind like we did with Lucia."

Annie crouched at Becca's side. "Please get up," she said, "We've already lost too many friends, I don't want to lose another one."

Becca sighed and pushed herself back onto her feet. Wyatt immediately ducked in and scooped her off of the ground. "Don't use your strength, dude." He said. The fifteen-year-old groaned, apparently not wanting to be carried. Vince decided she'd have to deal with it because they weren't going to leave her behind too.

Once that was dealt with, he turned his attention back to the noise. It sounded like muttering, mumbling and groaning. It came from ahead of them, and sure enough shapes started forming in the wintry mist. "Shit." Vince growled.

Walkers were appearing in the fog, moving forwards, towards the group. "How'd they know we were here?" Wyatt asked.

"Luck." Vince growled, "They were just coming this way."

"Well, what do we do? The road's that way – Russell's that way!" Wyatt groaned.

"There are more behind us." Annie cried, her head tilted as she looked back.

"Fuck, what do we do?" Wyatt asked, panicked.

There was nowhere for them to go. They were trapped with walkers at one end of the road, walkers at the other end, and building preventing them from going sideways. Even if they got into a building they wouldn't be able to get out the other side because walkers were probably out there, too. Vince had seen this kind of thing before; herds just appeared out of nowhere sometimes. Maybe this was the herd from the mall, who could tell?

Vince was stumped for ideas. They didn't have any options, surrounded on all sides by walkers and obstacles that they couldn't overrun. He stuttered, and then withdrew his pistol. There was nothing else they could do but fight their way through and hope they wouldn't get killed.

Then he looked back. There was no one left to get his back. No Laura, no Shel, no Ralph, no Miles, no Russell or Daniel or Lucia. All that remained was Wyatt carrying an exhausted Becca with the seven-year-old Annie standing beside them both. How could they feasibly fight an entire herd on their own, in the state they were in?

"Vince," Becca muttered, "Vince, put your gun down."

"There's nothing else we can do," Vince sighed, "We're gonna have to fight our way through."

"No, wait..." Becca coughed a couple of times, "I have an idea. Do you still have that lighter?"

Vince nodded as Becca continued. "Get us into that house." She said, pointing. The walkers were about twenty five metres away now, in all directions. Vince ran at a front door of a suburban house and barged it open with his shoulder. The door burst open and the group hurried inside. Becca jumped down from Wyatt's arms, ignoring her exhaustion and found a metal waste paper basket.

"What can we do with that?" Vince asked.

"It doesn't matter. Does... anyone have anything flammable?" Becca asked, shrugging his question off. Wyatt turned out his pockets and showed them a bit of paper, before complaining that it was 'important' somehow. Annie shrugged and bit her lip, while Vince simply said, "Fuck this," and swept a cloth off of a table, throwing it into the basket and then setting it alight.

"Well, we'll be warm in about an hour." He said, "How's the fire supposed to help."

"Take off your jackets." Becca said. Vince decided they didn't really have any options and followed her lead. She pulled off her varsity jacket, struggling as she reached her damaged hand and held it over the fire. "Keep the flames low," she said, "We need more smoke than fire."

"But _how will this help_?" Vince asked.

"Ralph told me and Russell something when we first met him. If you coat yourself in the smell of something non-human, walkers won't recognise you. He says it works with smoke, though I'd guess it'd work with anything that stinks worse than we do."

Annie started coughing because of the smoke. She took a step back and then looked at Wyatt awkwardly. "Arms..." she muttered, gently touching one of her forearms with the opposite hand.

"Guys, can you not look?" Wyatt asked. Vince and Becca turned away while Wyatt took Annie's jacket from her and held it over the fire to coat it in the smell of smoke. They waited about half a minute before Wyatt held it to his nose and took a deep inhale. "That's good enough," he said, returning Annie's coat. When Vince heard zipping, he turned back to look as he and Wyatt repeated the smoking of their own clothes.

"What's up with Annie?" Vince asked.

"She's... self conscious." Wyatt said, his eyes flitting between the group members. Vince didn't believe him, but they had bigger fish to fry.

"Let's hope this works." Vince said.

Becca walked over to the back door. "There's a few in the back garden," she remarked, "Let's test with them first." Tentatively she twisted the doorknob and stepped outside, the others following behind. A walker's head titled in their direction, but did not advance. "I think we're good," Becca whispered, "It noticed the noise, not us."

"Well," Vince said, "Only one thing to do." He turned and led them to the front yard of the house, where the crowd of walkers was waiting. "We're going in."


	46. Hold You Dear

**Day 875 – Midday**

**Becca**

"Stick together." Vince said, as the four smoke-covered group members moved closer to the herd. Becca saw Annie grab Wyatt's hand tightly, fear clearly visible on her face. She hoped nothing would go wrong.

They couldn't talk to each other any more, fearing that the walkers would hear the human noises and turn on them. As far as they could tell all they had to do was get through without drawing any attention to themselves and they'd be home free.

Becca crushed her eyes shut and walked towards the herd, the others panicking somewhat as she thought of how not to alert the walkers to her presence.

_Don't breathe heavily. Don't breathe loudly._

_Don't cough. Don't flinch._

_Don't run. Don't knock them._

She slowly opened her eyes, and realisted that she'd been accepted into the herd. As the walkers strolled and lumbered past her, she fought the urge to sigh in relief. Doing _anything _would probably attract the dead.

One corpse brushed past her, a hanging flap of skin brushing against her cheek. She felt sick and almost gagged, but held herself together. Her head jerked slightly, and a walker gave her a passing glance, but it didn't pay attention for long.

Becca paced slowly through the sea of the dead, and tilted her head slowly, looking for the others. Vince was a few steps to her left, blending in about as well as she was. Wyatt, who was further away, had his hood up to spread the smoky smell up to his head. He was holding hands with Annie, who was trailing in his footsteps as he carved a path. It looked like she was doing her best, but she was still shaking in fear. So long as she didn't panick, Becca was sure she'd be fine.

A roaring noise made Becca's head snap around. She looked at the house they'd previously been in and saw the curtains in a room erupt into flames. The sound of the fire attracted several of the undead, and they started to pick up speed as they moved towards it.

Becca gulped. This could work in their favour. The walkers would be drawn to the burning building more than the four masked survivors that were casually strolling through the herd.

Suddenly she felt a tickle in her throat. _"Not now!"_ She thought to herself. _"Hold it, you're almost there, just don't cough!"_

She held her breath, not willing to consider the idea of coughing. That would be a death sentence. Her left hand rested on the handle of the knife that she'd found in the outpost. She needed to be ready to attack if any walkers came her way.

As walkers left the herd and staggered up to the roaring, burning building, Becca found herself moving closer to Vince. Within seconds they were inches from each other. A member of the dead butted into Vince's shoulder, knocking him off balance. Becca had to react quickly and nudge him back onto his feet before he collapsed and made a sound.

Soon enough, the end of the herd was visible. Becca didn't make a break for it; any sort of slip up would screw them over. She kept walking at her regular pace, the tickling in her throat threatening to force its way out of her mouth in the form of a cough.

As she and Vince passed the last of the walkers they took a few more steps forwards and hid behind a car, waiting for Wyatt and Annie, who surfaced around half a minute later. Their faces were both a terrified shade of white. Wyatt saw them behind the vehicle and picked up the pace, pulling down his hood. When the four met up, they shared some concerned glances and light touches, and then started to speak.

"Where now?" Wyatt whispered. "Which way was Russell?"

"Down there." Vince pointed, his hand aimed directly at the herd. "We're gonna have to go around again. We were lucky to get through that – Jesus Christ, my heart's in my throat right now - but I'm in no hurry to do that again."

"Good thinking, Becca," Wyatt said, "I would've never thought of that in a million years."

"It wasn't my idea," Becca said, "I already told you, Ralph came up with it and he reeked of smoke when he told me and Russell, so he was serious about it."

"Still, I can't believe that worked." Wyatt turned to Annie, "You okay?"

Annie adjusted Daniel's hat, which still rested on her head. "Okay, just... scared."

"Come on, we're through the worst of it. Let's get going." Wyatt lifted the child to her feet as the group started walking. Once they were out of earshot of the walking corpses nearby, he spoke up. "Man, we've been through hell, huh? The whole hardware escape, Marshall, the mall, those bandits, now this. Jesus, man, I don't think my heart can take much more."

Vince vaulted over a fence. "Whaddya think happened to everyone back at the Hardware store, anyway?"

"I doubt they made it out, dude," Wyatt sighed. "Can't save everyone."

"Can't save anyone." Becca grunted, rubbing her halved right hand. It still felt weird moving her middle and index finger, the outer two fingers not responding. "What did you do with the rest of my hand, anyway?" She asked.

"I can't actually remember," Vince said. "We kind of had other things on our mind. I think Miles did something with it."

"Thanks for reminding me about him." Becca grunted.

"Sorry."

As they walked, Becca saw Annie hanging back, falling into line beside her. "Are you okay?" the younger girl asked. It was weird being asked that by someone a foot and a half shorter than her and more than half her age.

Becca didn't answer. "Are _you_? You looked really scared back there."

"It was scary, but I'm fine now. I meant your hand." Annie said, copying Becca as she rubbed the amputated area.

"I think it's fine, I'm pretty sure I'm not infected. I've lasted too long for that."

"Did it hurt – being bit? How much out of ten?" Annie asked, pursuing Becca with a childlike question.

"Not as much as you'd think. The bite was only like... a four out of ten. The thing being cut off was an eight – I didn't feel most of it because I was really tired – and this," she rolled up her left sleeve to reveal the blistered flesh on her forearm, "Was a ten out of ten."

"Oh, man." Annie said, reaching across to touch Becca's arm. The fifteen year old winced as the younger kid touched the burned skin and retracted her arm. "I know how _that _feels."

"Huh?" Becca asked, confused.

"Uh... never mind." Annie said, quickly averting her gaze and scratching her head.

"So," Becca asked, "Back when Wyatt said he shot that bandit, it really shocked me, but you didn't seem that surprised. Why's that?"

Annie paused for thought, "Well, because I already knew."

"What?"

"Yeah, he told me while the nurse lady was trying to get you to breathe again. I was really scared that the bad men were gonna hurt me because I would've said something. I would've been too scared and they were gonna shoot me and..."

"Annie, it's fine." Becca said, patting the child on the shoulder. "We got out of it."

"Come on, guys," Wyatt said, "We're gonna have to keep moving if we expect to get around that herd and find Russ."

Becca wasn't too sure about that plan. Was it really worth looking for Russell with the high chance that he'd died the day before? She turned her attention back to Annie.

"Why are you so worried about me, anyway?" She asked.

"Well... I, uh..." Annie looked nervous. She scratched her temple. "Don't people worry about friends? I think you're a friend. I mean... you want to be friends, don't you?"

Becca paused in thought, her mind cast back to a similar conversation she'd had years ago. At that point in her life she'd been ignorant and somewhat of a bully; maybe this was her second chance. She looked at Annie, smiled, and then said, "Sure, why not?"

Annie returned the grin, and adjusted Daniel's hat again. "Are you gonna hold onto that?" Becca asked.

"Well, he gave it to me, and now he's not around any more. We can remember him if we keep it." Annie explained.

"You should hold onto it." Becca said, "It looks good on you. You should probably get a haircut, though. It'd work better."

"I don't know if anyone here can cut hair. Can you?"

"I'm right handed, so..." Becca looked at the hand that was missing two fingers. "But yeah, I'd try."

Annie smiled again. "Cool. Cool. Friends?" She held out her right arm for Becca to shake, until the older girl held up her damaged, bandaged hand. "Oh, sorry." She said, and switched to her left arm. If the world had been how it used to be, she would've never considered being friends with a seven-year-old, but things had changed. Becca accepted the handshake, and then put her hands into her pockets. She'd only just signed the metaphorical contract of friendship, but in a way she felt closer to Annie than she had before. For the longest time the younger girl had been 'the other kid in the group', but now Becca recognised her as a group member and a friend.

It had been a long time since Becca had possessed a friend. Too long.


	47. See You Soon

**Day 875 – Midday**

**Vince**

After a long and frightening journey, the group had found their way back to the road they'd been beaten on the night before. Oddly enough, it looked like any other road now, just a snow-covered path that led south. The precipitation of the night before had concealed the blood that had been sprayed across the asphalt and the truck was no longer there.

It wasn't long before Vince recognised the trees they'd hid behind during the escape. As he cast his mind back he looked at Wyatt and asked him. "Wait, weren't you shot in the arm yesterday?"

Wyatt looked at his right arm and remembered. "It only skimmed me, dude. Really light. Feels sore, but I was lucky."

"_We would've been better off if his bullet had skimmed that bandit's head and knocked him out."_ Vince thought to himself.

Annie and Becca were trailing behind, chatting. Vince hadn't really seen them interact before, but he did remember that Becca had said something about Annie back in the mall while he was alone with her. Maybe this was what she meant.

"Russell!" Wyatt called, "You out here, dude?"

There was no reply. Vince noticed something in the road, covered in a light dusting of snow. "Think that's him?" He asked, walking up to it.

"Doesn't look like him." Wyatt replied.

Vince slowly walked up to the thing in the snow. It was a person lying on their side. He grabbed their shoulder, pulling them onto their back, and reeled back in horror.

"Fuck," he moaned, "Miles."

Miles' body lay on its back, blood covering the majority of his body from where he'd been shot. His skin was incredibly pale, grey from the cold. His eyes still looked human rather than the pale blue of a walker. This was probably due to the gaping bullet hole in his head, which Ivan had presumably created to stop his kill from becoming a walker.

"Man, that's..." Wyatt said, lost for words. "Can we bury him?"

"No shovels or anything." Vince grunted. "We can at least move him out of the road."

They grabbed the wrists and ankles of the body, lifting him up and laying him down to the side of the road. They couldn't do much else except close his eyes and leave him there.

Wyatt turned back to Becca and Annie. "You guys seen any sign of Russell? Footprints or anything?"

"No." Becca called back hastily, before breaking into another fit of coughs. This time Annie put on hand on Becca's chest and one on her back, straightening the older girl up.

Vince and Wyatt scanned the side of the road where they'd last seen Russell. One tree branch had been sprayed with blood, presumably from the shot Russell had taken from the shoulder. They'd seen him fall into the bushes up ahead and then he'd disappeared. Vince tentatively crept past the bushes and down a slope, but it was hard to know where Russell had gone.

Due to the snow and the foiliage covering the area, Vince did not recognise any signs of Russell, aside from the occasional drop of blood on a tree branch. As far as he could tell, Russell was alive and had left the area, or he had died and turned.

"There's no sign of him," Vince sighed reluctantly. "Maybe he got away."

"God fucking damn it," Wyatt swore, kicking the trunk of a tree. "Why can't we catch a _fucking_ break?! Assholes force us out of the camp, Laura's dead, Ralph's dead, Daniel's dead, Miles is dead, Shel is dead, Russell's gone, I've killed a man, Becca's been bit, we left Lucia behind..."

"Calm down!" Vince growled, "We need to keep ourselves together. What do we do now?"

Becca had fallen quiet after Wyatt had mentioned Shel, but Annie offered an idea. "Maybe we should go and get Lucia and go somewhere else."

"Where else is there to go?" Wyatt asked, frustrated.

"Well, considering the herd from there is probably the one that's currently inhabiting the city, we could always go back to the mall and try and make a go of it there." Vince offered.

"It's secure." Becca agreed. "We could even try and make it into a settlement like the hardware store. I mean, it's huge, but we'd need more people to secure the whole place – more than just the five of us. Lucia included."

"Yeah," Vince said, "Plus there are other buildings if that particular mall doesn't work out."

"Sounds like a plan." Wyatt sighed, but didn't seem convinced.

Vince turned and started walking back in the direction they had come from. "Come on, let's go get Lucia. We'll have to take the long way round to avoid the herd, but at least we know where the damn outpost is now."

"The sooner we get her and leave, the better." Becca said, touching Annie's shoulder to guide her into following along as they walked. "Come on."

"This is such bullshit," Wyatt groaned, "Can't we save _someone_ for once?"

Becca coughed into her hand, but it was clearly deliberate, alerting Wyatt to her presence.

"Oh, right, sorry." Wyatt sighed, remembering Becca's hand injury.

The group plodded down the road, conversation ceasing. Nothing had really gone well so far. Granted, it was slightly better than the night before, but Vince wasn't sure how much of this he could take. It was getting on his nerves.

They would go back to the Outpost, grab Lucia, leave, then decide what to do from there. Going back to the mall seemed like a good idea, but there was the potential threat of walkers hanging around there, or that the herd in Indianapolis was not in fact the herd from the mall.

Vince sighed to himself. He'd heard that the Outpost was supposedly 'on the way to a settlement even further north,' but he wasn't sure how much further north he was willing to go, especially if it was so cold in Indiana. Who knew how much of a nightmare it would be in states like Michigan, Wisconsin or Minnesota? He sure as hell wasn't going to push the group into going through that.

Vince decided they'd come up with something. Right now it was one thing after the other. Search for Russell, then decide what to do next. Go back for Lucia, then decide what to do next.

It was a tough role to play, being the leader. But if Vince didn't do it, no one else would.


	48. It's A Must

**Day 875 – Afternoon**

**Wyatt**

Skirting around the herd was a major inconvenience, but the group had to suffer that to get back to the Outpost in one piece. Thus far none of them had seen a walker, but they could hear the deafening roaring, hissing and gurgling of a thousand undead voices.

Wyatt only had a metal shaft fir a weapon, swinging limply by his side after he'd stopped using it as a torch. He also had a pistol, but he'd be damned if he was going to use it. Firing a gun in such close proximity of a herd would bring them all down. It would be a death sentence.

Becca had a knife, but she was right-handed. If they ended up in combat with walkers, she wouldn't fare too well.

"We've got a walker up ahead." Vince said, pointing out a shambling corpse. "Just the one. Come on, we can do this." He looked around for any type of weapon, finding nothing but a rock. "Wyatt, you've got that pole, you wanna get its attention?"

Wyatt sighed, and lifted his weapon. He watched his step as he lifted his pole and walked closer to the undead creature. Slipping on ice or making any sort of noise would bring the walker down on top of him.

Once he was a metre or so behind the walker he slammed the pole into the side of the walker's head. It was knocked off balance but didn't fall down. Wyatt instantly stepped back and felt his back foot slip on ice, but he managed to stand back up. The walker turned and lunged for him, but Vince threw his rock from the other side of the street, drawing its attention to him. The walker turned in confusion, and Wyatt smacked it around the back of the head again. It fell onto its back and Wyatt looked to Vince, wondering what to do next. Becca and Annie weren't standing behind him any more.

He panicked and started bringing his pole down on the walker's head before he saw Becca slide in and knife the dead body in the back of the head. He pulled the pole back but it still hit Becca in the shoulder quite harshly.

"Ah! Shit!" Becca cried, grabbing her shoulder, "What the fuck did you do that for?!"

"Sorry!" Wyatt panicked, "I didn't know you were gonna get it!"

Becca pulled herself up to her full height, clutching her right shoulder with her left hand. "Fuck, that's gonna bruise, you asshole."

"Are you okay?" Annie called, walking up to them both. "Both of you."

"Fine," Wyatt said, rubbing the back of his neck. "Sorry, Becca."

"It's fine." Becca lied. "God, we suck."

"Let's hope that herd doesn't come up on us." Vince said, walking up to the three, "Now, come on, we've gotta get Lucia."

"Man, all this walking is making me tired. Can't we rest somewhere?" Becca complained.

"We'll get Lucia, then we'll find somewhere. Can't stay at the Outpost because those bandits would find us there."

"Let's find somewhere close, then," Wyatt suggested, "but not _too_ close."

"One thing at a time," Vince said, "Let's not get ahead of ourselves. Come on."

* * *

**Day 875 – Afternoon**

**Wyatt**

The group finally made it to the Outpost at around three o'clock. They were walking down the street that led to it, skyscrapers on either side, when they felt that something was wrong. It didn't take long for them to notice several walkers lining the street, with some converging on the Outpost itself.

The group crouched behind a car, unsure what to do. The walkers seemed to know they were there. The smoke effect must have worn off.

"Shit, we have to get in there." Vince growled. "We need to clear a path. There's only about seven of them on the way, then all we have to do is get in. Don't get cornered, keep moving, all that stuff. Come on." He held up the rock he'd thrown at the last walker.

"What're you gonna accomplish with that?" Wyatt asked.

"I'll work it out." Vince sighed.

Wyatt lifted his pole and led the group, being the best armed. He walked towards the first walker and smashed it in the head, knocking it onto its back. Before it could reach up and grab his ankle, he stamped on its head and crushed its brain.

Other walkers started to notice the group due to the noise. Wyatt noticed that Annie was sticking with him, so he'd have to keep look out for her too. "Come on," he said, as they started to run. He smacked another walker across the face and looked at Vince, who gripped a walker by the neck, slammed it into a window and smashed its face in with his rock.

Meanwhile, Becca kicked a walker in the back of its knee, causing it to fall flat onto its face. It collapsed and she knifed it in the back of the head.

Wyatt ducked under a walker's arms and turned so he was facing its chest. He pressed the bottom of his pole into the walker's neck and pushed himself up to his full height, giving himself the power to force the pole through the bottom of the walker's head, up into its skull. He made sure Annie was still following, and then carried on. As he ran, he saw Becca boldly but recklessly sprint, jump and stab a walker in the back of the head. Wyatt had only ever expected to see that sort of move in an action movie.

When she landed, Becca was sweating profusely and breathing heavily, probably something to do with her recent injuries combined with the effort she was going through. "Becca!" Wyatt called, "Get back, calm down!"

Becca wiped her brow and nodded, unable to argue, before falling back to an area free of walkers. Vince was smashing another walker's face in but he didn't see another walker behind him. "Vince, behind you!" Wyatt called.

Vince threw his current victim to one side and barely avoided the grip of the walker behind him as he twisted and shoved it back. Wyatt watched on, knowing he'd saved Vince, and then felt his weight collapse from beneath as a legless walker pulled him over. His pole flew out of his grasp, so he flipped over and tried to kick the walker's hand loose. "Why's it always my freaking leg?" He growled as he tried to pull himself away to no avail. "Come on! Come on!"

He desperately tried to kick himself away, but the walker's hand had created a hole in his trouser leg and it was now tangled in it. There was no getting it loose until the walker was dead, and Wyatt couldn't kill it.

As he panicked, he saw his pole smack the walker over the head, only deterring it for a second before it turned its attention back to Wyatt. It was hit again and again, each time with more force. Maybe Becca had come back to help.

With an almighty splat, the walker collapsed in a heap. Wyatt turned his head and saw Annie wielding his pole, staring at the walker she'd just killed. "Holy shit, dude," he said as he pulled himself to his feet. "Thanks."

"It's dead, right?" Annie asked, still staring into the walker's eyes. Wyatt turned and stamped on its head. "Definitely is now," he grunted, "Thanks, kiddo."

"You saved me back at Mister Carver's place, so I saved you." Annie told him.

"You guys okay?" Vince asked, walking up to them with Becca. "I was gonna help, but a walker almost had me, too. Becca took it down, then we were gonna come help, but Annie already had it under control."

"Nice one," Becca said, congratulating Annie.

"Come on, let's get inside. Lucia could be in trouble." Vince ordered. He turned and led the group towards the entrance of the Outpost. Wyatt sighed and stretched an aching shoulder before following on, wondering if he had just witnessed Annie's first step to losing her innocence and becoming like everyone else.


	49. Ashes To Ashes

**Day 875 – Afternoon**

**Vince**

Vince, Wyatt, Becca and Annie pushed into the Outpost for the second time that day, though this time they were not met with the sight of Daniel sitting in a swivel chair with a poorly sewn up stomach.

Several walker bodies littered the room, collapsed against cubicle partitions or lying dead on the floor. In the middle of the room was Daniel's body, untouched by the walkers. He'd become a walker after dying, and walkers didn't eat their own kind.

"Well, she definitely held out." Vince sighed, but there was no sign of Lucia. "We need to look around, see if she's here. Make sure the walkers are dead."

He withdrew the rock he was using as a makeshift weapon, his hands bloody from the walkers he'd dealt with outside, and made a point of either stamping or smashing a few skulls before he went looking for Lucia. The rest would finish the job.

The walkers had been killed messily. The walkers close near the front doors had bullet holes in their heads, but most of them had several slashes across their face where Lucia had presumably ran out of ammunition and had to resort to knifing them. Had Ralph been around, he would've been able to provide a greater insight on how Lucia had killed them as he had been a good tracker. Perhaps he would've been able to retrace her steps to see where she'd gone, because she clearly wasn't here.

"Vince!" Becca called, "Come look at this!"

Vince walked over to the teenager, who was cradling her shoulder. It was bruised because Wyatt had accidentally hit her in the heat of the moment while fighting a walker. Becca pointed something out on the wall, a red splatter.

"It's just blood," Vince said, "What about it?"

"Look closer," Becca pointed to a specific spot with her right hand. Vince couldn't help but feel bad that he'd cut off two of those fingers, even if it was to save her. He looked at the stain she was showing him and noticed a heavily smudged hand print.

"That's a left hand, I think." Becca said, holding her left hand above the print to compare.

"What does that tell us?" Vince asked, confused.

"Don't know. Either she had walker blood on her, or her hand was cut and she pressed it against the wall. She was headed this way, so let's see what's over here." She stood up and led Vince through some doors into the following room, the same room where they had found three pistols and a knife earlier. Instantly the both felt a draught and turned their heads to see a shattered window and a dead walker lying on the ground in front of it.

"Guess it got in," Becca sighed. "I don't think Lucia made it."

"No, look," Vince said. "If a walker had smashed the window from the outside, the shards of glass would be on the inside, but they're not."

"So it smashed the window from the inside? How would that work?" Becca asked.

"It didn't. If it had it would be stuck halfway or it would've got out. Lucia must've run through here and smashed the window to get out." Vince explained.

"We're on the ground floor... that makes sense." Becca said, "She got out, then?"

"Or spared herself from being devoured but was bitten anyway, judging by the blood. Plus the herd is the way she was going." Vince sighed. "Or those bandits caught up to her. I'd guess her chances aren't any better than Russell's."

"Oh." Becca sighed, and then pushed her hair off of her face. "Well, guess it's time to get out of here, then."

They got up and saw Annie and Wyatt inspecting walker corpses. It looked like Wyatt had managed to scrounge up some ammo, but not much else. "Did you find her?" He asked.

"No. She got out, but I doubt she made it far." Vince told him.

"God fucking damn it, guys." Wyatt moaned, "Why does this keep happening?"

"Don't ask me." Vince said, holding up his hands, "I don't know any more than you do."

"She _could _still be alive." Becca said.

"Probably not though," Vince sighed. "Come on, let's get out of this city. We've spent too long here, and if we keep going on wild goose chases we'll _all _end up dead." He started walking towards the reception as the group followed, but as he exited the building, he heard a familiar humming from the end of the street and he was hit by a blast of light as he walked out of the doors.

Following his instincts, Vince grabbed Becca's sleeve and pulled her down behind a car, Wyatt and Annie backing into the building and ducking beneath a smashed window.

Vince peeked out from the side of his cover, his eyes adjusting to the glare, and saw a familiar but unwelcome sight at the end of the road.

"It's been a while, hasn't it, assholes?" Ivan yelled at them, leaning out of his truck. "We already killed one of you, or two, I don't know, but after that asshole tried to kill _me_, we want to finish the job. Can't have murderers running amok in a big city, now, can we?"

Vince almost laughed at the irony as he heard Wyatt and Annie muttering to each other.

"Tell me," Ivan called, "How many of you are dead now? What about Hat Boy? That knife probably slowed him down. Steve Urkel? Spanish Girl? Half-hand's probably died of the cold now, right? Come on, tell me!" The truck revved. "I know you're down there."

Vince didn't reply. "You guys seen the other three?" He asked his group, referring to the other bandits.

"The one guy with the hood is standing in the road." Becca said. "We can take him out with one good shot."

"If we miss then we give away our position." Vince grimaced, "We've gotta scram."

"The older guy is in the passenger seat." Wyatt said from behind, "The last one's in the truck bed."

"We're gonna have to run for it, guys." Vince sighed, "I don't know what else to do without screwing ourselves over."

"Come on, they're in a _truck,_" Becca sighed, "How far are we gonna get on foot?"

"We've just gotta put some distance between us and them." Vince said. "Look, the truck's coming up here, but there's a turning to our right. If we run down there then we have until they reach the corner to find somewhere to hide."

"We can't stay here long," Wyatt said, "The herd was back where they came from and that engine's making a lot of noise."

"I guess they don't know where we are, let's see if we can sneak away." Vince said. "If we go in the smashed window we'll at least have some cover." He backed away from the car slightly and Becca climbed inside the window. As he rose to dive in too, he lifted his pistol, chambered a round, then stood up and fired at the windscreen of the truck to divert their attention or even kill one of the bandits in the vehicle. He dove into the window, and saw that the other three were already running. The truck revved as Vince saw the two bandits who were scouting the road head back to it. Vince ran after his group as he witnessed the truck cruising down the street with Ethan, Donald and Brandon all firing at the windows of the building in an attempt to hit him.

Vince almost chuckled to himself. They were never going to catch a break. Once again, they were thrust into the fray.


	50. Dust To Dust

**Day 875 – Afternoon**

**Wyatt**

Wyatt sprinted down the hallway of the Outpost as windows exploded behind him. Annie and Becca were barely able to catch up with a sprinting adult, and Vince was even further back.

"VINCE!" Wyatt yelled. "WHY'D YOU HAVE TO SHOOT AT THEM, MAN?"

He didn't get an answer. Vince was probably too busy running. Wyatt panicked as he saw a window up ahead. He was closing in on it and pretty soon he'd crash into it. He cast his mind back to the events that had transpired in the Eastland Mall. What had Ralph done when the walkers had been closing in? He'd fired at the glass wall between two stores to create a hole. Sure, it hadn't worked because the glass had been so thick, but this glass was thin. As he ran, Wyatt pulled his pistol from his waistband – he'd found it in the Outpost – and pointed it at the window. He fired three shots to be safe, and then shielded his face as he jumped through.

For a split second the thought 'what the fuck am I doing?' passed through his mind, then he landed on the ground, falling onto his side. Becca and Annie passed through after him and Vince finally caught up, the sound of the truck following them all the while. Luckily for them, the road ahead had been a victim of major traffic during the outbreak, and was blocked with cars. The bandits wouldn't be able to drive through.

The group sprinted down the street, ducking and diving as Ivan's group fired on them from the truck, and eventually stopped behind a car to discuss what to do. "Okay, we've gotta deal with this." Vince said, "We keep running and they'll eventually catch up." He pulled out his pistol and checked his magazine. "How many you got?" He asked.

"Seven." Wyatt said.

"Thirteen." Becca said.

"I've got nine." Vince admitted.

"Coulda had ten if you hadn't acted like a moron and shot at them, dude." Wyatt said.

"Guess you're not the only one who's taken a risky shot, then." Vince said, "I did hit their windscreen, though." The windscreen of the truck looked as if it had a rather large crack in it, but it wasn't smashed. It was probably annoying to drive, but it wasn't a major inconvenience.

"What're we doing, then?" Becca asked.

"_You're _not doing anything." Vince said. "You need to go. Wyatt and I have this."

"No!" Becca growled, "I'm staying. You told me that I was old enough to decide for myself, so I'm staying."

Wyatt was in no mood to argue, so he said nothing. Vince sighed as Becca shuffled up next to them. Annie cowered behind.

"Come out, come out wherever you are!" They heard Ethan call. Wyatt peeked over the car and saw Ethan, Ivan and Brandon pacing around the trapped cars while Donald stood in the truck bed, looking rather lost and unsure of what to do.

Wyatt lifted his pistol, pointed at Brandon's chest, and fired. The shot missed.

Brandon ducked behind a car, wielding a rifle, and then leaned over himself and fired a shot at their cover in response. Instantly Ethan and Ivan followed suit.

"They're spread out." Vince said, looking at the cars. Ethan was on the right side of the road and Ivan was on the right, with Brandon in the middle. "I'll get the left guy, Becca, you get the one on the right, and Wyatt, keep shooting at the fucker in the middle."

One of the windows of the car they were using as cover shattered, causing them to jump. Wyatt looked over the bonnet and saw Ivan crouch back down beneath a car with an eerie grin on his face, his eyes flaring. "I see you!" he yelled. Another shot, this time from the centre, burst one of the tyres on the vehicle. Wyatt wondered if they were deliberately being terrible shots for effect.

Vince fired at Ethan and barely missed, causing his target to duck as the bullet flew overhead. Becca fired at Ivan twice, once to his left and once to his right, trying to dupe him into running into the path of the next bullet. A rifle shot hit a concrete pillar behind Wyatt's head, causing him to look around and see a building frozen in mid-construction.

The bandits were almost halfway to the group now, aside from Donald, who was firing at a handful of walkers who were behind the truck. Becca fired three more times at Ivan, but was unsuccessful with every shot. Wyatt aimed at Brandon, and saw him aiming back. He ducked as a shot rang off and then launched himself back up and fired at Brandon, hearing at satisfying punching sound and a scream of pain.

"Shit, man! Fucker got my hand!" Brandon yelled.

"Shut up!" Ivan growled, "Keep shooting at 'em! They'll run out eventually!"

"Fan out," Vince said. "Wyatt, cover the left, Becca, take the right. No room for failure." Wyatt turned to duck behind the next car along until he caught Annie following him out of the corner of his eye. "Dude, you've gotta stay behind. This is serious."

Annie looked sad but she definitely understood, turning and shuffling back. As Wyatt ducked behind the next car to the left, Vince provided some cover fire, using up three of his bullets. From where he was, Wyatt could just about make out the top of Ivan's head across the way, even though he was supposed to be focusing on Ethan, who was a few cars directly ahead of him. Risking it, he fired at Ivan's head but the bandit saw it coming and threw himself to the ground, then quickly had to dodge two more shots from Becca. Vince ran between two cars, firing once as Brandon tried shooting him in the torso.

Wyatt was running out of ammo, though he was pacing himself. Becca would probably run out first, judging by how recklessly she was firing. They'd have to back off soon. He heard muttering from in front of him, around ten metres away. The hooded bandit, Ethan, was talking to himself, but what about?

Wyatt ducked as a shot rang overhead, presumably coming from Ivan. In return he fired three shots and realised he only had two left. He was screwed if he pushed forwards, so he backed up and got closer to their original cover, where Annie was still hiding. The bandits were evidently pushing them back, as Becca and Vince were both converging on the same place.

Becca fired three more shots and Vince fired one. Wyatt caught a glance of Brandon and shot at him, barely missing. One of his shots had to land. One of them.

Another car window smashed as Ivan fired, growling. Vince fired in return, to no avail. Becca shot at Brandon, who was getting closer to her, and Wyatt fired one last shot at Ethan. He tried to fire again, but heard a gut-wrenching click that told him he was out of ammo. The muttering coming from Ethan was closer now, telling him that Ethan himself was nearby. It sounded like he was reloading.

Becca sided up next to him. "Shit," she said, "How many you got left?"

"Out." Wyatt said.

"Where's Vince?" Becca asked, causing him to search for his friend. Vince and Ivan were dangerously close to each other, no more than two cars apart. "Over there," he said, pointing him out. "What're we gonna do?"

Becca sighed, and then handed her gun to him. "I've got three left." She said, "But I can't shoot for shit. Vince told me I was old enough to make my own decisions, so now I'm gonna do what I think is right."

"What's that?"

Becca turned to Annie and said, "I'm gonna take her and run."

"You're leaving?" Wyatt thought she was abandoning him and Vince for a second, but then he realised what she was doing. "Yeah," he said, "Find somewhere to hide. Keep her safe. We'll shout if it's safe." Becca nodded, and then looked up. "Shit!" She cried.

Wyatt looked up to see Ethan running at them both, along with Brandon, both of them coming from different directions. He heard three shots fire from the direction of Vince, causing Ethan to flinch slightly. Wyatt seized the moment and fired Becca's pistol. The first two shots missed but the third hit Ethan in the shoulder. "Fuck!" The man yelled, grasping his arm and dropping his weapon. Wyatt leapt up and punched Ethan full in the face, hoping that Vince had Ivan under control. He turned to watch Becca and Annie escape, and then froze as he saw Brandon hop over a car bonnet and head after them, wielding a rifle.

Wyatt called "Becca!" causing her to notice the imminent threat, and then ran after them. He leapt over the bonnet of a truck and ran after them, but he was too slow, not catching up as Becca and Annie ran into a building. They were going to get cornered.

Wyatt growled and tried to pick up speed, but Ethan tackled him from behind as they passed the last of the cars and found their way into a deserted street, the construction site Wyatt had noticed earlier on their right. Though Ethan had a bullet hole in his shoulder, he was fighting through the pain, fuelled by adrenaline. Wyatt managed to kick the man off of him and crawl backwards, but Ethan got back to his feet, his hood falling down in the process. The fatter man swung a heavy punch, but Wyatt dodged as it was slow and sluggish. He found himself backing away, getting closer to the half-built office block as he dodged the unarmed attacks of Ethan.

He ducked under a scaffold as he dived for cover, Ethan launching another heavy attack. He'd have to fight back soon, or this would never end. He growled and threw a punch, hitting Ethan in the chest. The man was thrown off for a second, but Wyatt's punch hadn't had much of an effect. In return Ethan shoved his foot between Wyatt's shins, trying to swing his feet out from underneath him. Wyatt barely stepped over Ethan's leg, but tripped in doing so. The bandit capitalised on this and launched a punch at Wyatt's jaw, knocking him down.

As Wyatt fell, he grabbed a metal pole – part of some scaffolding – and tried to use it to pull himself back up. Unfortunately the structural integrity of the scaffolding had failed over time and he heard a worrying creak and a rumble from above. He collapsed to the ground as a wooden plank hit Ethan square on the forehead, slicing his face and momentarily making his head spin.

Wyatt used the moment to his advantage, throwing himself at the chubby bandit and knocking him to the ground. They tossed and turned in a struggle, landing heavy punches and kicks on one another until Ethan wriggled out of Wyatt's grasp and put some space between them both. Wyatt looked around for a weapon, noticing nothing but a lone walker trapped in the scaffolding, snarling and reaching out. He'd have to stay away from it.

Ethan lifted a metal pole and charged at Wyatt, taking him off guard and hitting him in the gut. Wyatt spluttered as all the air in his body was forced out through his mouth. He backed away as Ethan swung again, but it hit him over the back as he hunched over.

Wyatt grunted in pain and charged at Ethan in a last ditch effort. He knocked the man over with his full weight and fell on top of him. Ethan's arms stretched out and his pole slipped from between his fingers. Wyatt freed his hands from under the man and punched him in the face. Ethan roared in pain and rolled over, throwing Wyatt off of him.

Wyatt found himself on his back as Ethan leapt on top of his chest and pressed his hands around his throat. He retched as the bandit's fingers pressed into the soft flesh of his throat. He couldn't yell for help or do anything. His sight was blurry meaning that he could barely see. He looked for anything that could save him, but couldn't find anything.

His legs flailed momentarily until his shin painfully came into contact with something and he heard a horrid metallic creak. He looked at the source of the noise and saw a weak portion of scaffolding, and came up with an idea. A terrible idea, but an idea nonetheless. He kicked the scaffolding out of place and heard it creaking fiercely, watching as it slipped and the boards and metal above moaned.

Ethan looked up at the source of the noise, his hands relaxing slightly, giving Wyatt the time he needed to pull himself free and throw himself backwards as an entire floor of the half-built office block collapsed on the bandit. Metal and wood rained down on the bandit, who desperately tried to shield himself with his arms, to no avail.

Dust filled the air as Wyatt sat on the ground, breathing heavily and rubbing his throat. As the air cleared, he climbed to his feet shakily and saw Ethan lying on the ground, still very much alive. The walker he'd seen earlier was still trapped in the same place.

Ethan wasn't getting up. Wyatt looked closer and saw a spray of blood and Ethan's leg trapped beneath the rubble. The bandit's face was covered in blood and dust. "Fuckin' asshole!" Ethan growled, "Fuckin' fat, bearded piece of shit! C'mere so I can fuckin' put you down like the fuckin' dyin' dog that you are, you fucking motherfuck!"

Wyatt started to speak, but his throat hurt. He coughed into a hand and then crouched over Ethan's struggling form. "You know, dude, somehow I don't think that'll happen."

"Piece of lousy _Burning Man_ shit! That other asshole killin' David and you tryin' to kill us now!" Ethan yelled at him, spitting in his face.

"You, know, dude, it wasn't Miles who killed 'David'," Wyatt said, "It was me. So I'd kinda watch your mouth if I were you."

"What..?" Ethan's eyes widened with fear, "Then... what... huh?"

"Yeah." Wyatt sighed. "Me."

Ethan glared at him. "You fuckin' shit! Alright, then, let's see you kill _me, _just like you killed my friend."

Wyatt walked over to the walker nearby, keeping out of reach and watching Ethan all the time. The struggling bandit looked at him and said, "Come on! What are you? Some sorta pansy? Fuckin' no-balls-beardy, that it? KILL ME!"

"No, dude, that's not who I am." Wyatt said, "I killed your friend out of defense, because I had someone to _protect_. You can't hurt anyone any more, man, which means I don't need to kill you anymore and I'm not going to." He kicked the scaffolding that trapped the walker, causing it to slip slightly. Soon enough it would come loose, along with the hungry corpse. Wyatt didn't need to kill Ethan any more; he decided to be the bigger man and walk away.

Unfortunately for Ethan, the same couldn't be said for the walker.

* * *

**Day 875 – Afternoon**

**Becca**

Becca had been focusing so much on shooting at Ivan that she didn't realise she'd used up so many bullets. She had to try something else. Looking to her left she noticed Wyatt taken cover behind the car they'd originally hidden behind. She sided up next to him. "Shit," she said, "How much you got left?"

"Out." Wyatt replied.

"Where's Vince?" Becca asked, looking around. As far as she could tell Vince had taken over her duties of fending off Ivan. "Over there. What're we gonna do?" Wyatt asked.

Becca sighed, and then handed her gun to him. "I've got three left," she said, "But I can't shoot for shit. Vince told me I was old enough to make my own decisions, so now I'm gonna do what I think is right." She turned her head and looked at Annie, who was cowering behind them both.

"What's that?"

Becca crushed her eyes shut. "I'm gonna take her and run." It was the right thing to do, but not what she wanted to do.

"You're leaving?" Wyatt asked, and then paused for a second. "Yeah," he said, "Find somewhere to hide. Keep her safe. We'll shout if it's okay to come out."

Becca nodded and looked up, before jolting back and shouting "Shit!"

Ethan and Brandon were running full pelt at them. With only Vince taking care of Ivan, the two bandits had been given the space they needed to push forward. Becca turned and put her right arm around Annie's back as they turned to run, pushing her left hand into the younger girl's. "Come on," she ordered. They started to run.

They heard three shots being fired, along with a yell of pain, but it didn't sound like Wyatt. Hopefully he'd put one of them out of action. Becca held Annie's hand tightly and led her down the street, clearing the cars and passing a construction site.

"Becca!" Wyatt called. Becca snapped her head around to see Brandon bolting over a car bonnet. "Oh, shit," she grunted. The oldest of the bandits pursued relentlessly, but he was in his mid forties and thus, past his prime, which meant that the two girls could just about outrun him.

Becca looked around for anything that she could knock over to slow the bandit down. Looking around as she ran she saw that the front door of an office building was open. She tugged Annie's hand and pulled her in that direction, hoping that she could use something in the building to her advantage. All she had at the moment was the survival knife she'd found back in the Outpost.

She ran through the front door and was met with the sight of a room filled with desks. Maybe Brandon would think they were hiding in there and he'd slow down. To throw him off, she tugged Annie in the direction of a flight of stairs and pulled her up to the next floor. She turned her head to see Brandon burst through the front door but pause and look around.

Once Becca and Annie made it to the next floor they rushed past desks and cubicles, their feet hitting the carpeted floor harshly. Once they had put a decent amount of distance between themselves and Brandon, Becca pulled Annie down so that they were crouched behind a desk, out of sight.

"We have to do something." Becca said, looking past the desk. "We need to get rid of him somehow."

Annie's lip trembled but she barely managed to keep her nerve. "I don't know what to do, I can't do _anything. _I'm just a kid."

Becca rested her left hand on Annie's shoulder. "Listen, ever since this whole 'walker' thing started I only ever wanted to be treated like an adult. Vince gave me that opportunity and I could finally do what I knew I was capable of. You killed that walker and saved Wyatt – like me, you're_ not_ just a kid any more. We can do this."

"Promise...?" Annie asked, her eyes meeting Becca's.

"Promise. Now, come on. I'm gonna get up and get his attention, then you distract him by throwing some stuff at him. Staplers, stuff like that. Just get on his nerves a bit, okay? Then I'll take it from there." Becca stood up and withdrew her knife.

"Don't go!" Annie cried.

"I'm not going anywhere." Becca replied, her eyes on the staircase. Soon enough the top of Brandon's head appeared, accompanied by his stomps as he made his way upstairs. Becca stood in the centre of the room, her feet shoulder width apart and her hands by her sides, her left clutching her knife as her right hung uselessly.

Brandon looked at Becca sternly as he reached the top of the stairs. His rifle fell to his side and he spoke in his gravelly, hoarse voice. "What the hell d'you think you're doing? Where's the other one?"

"She's gone." Becca grunted. He heart was racing, knowing that one wrong move could end with the bandit lifting his rifle and shooting her in the chest. "I'm stopping you from chasing her."

Brandon chuckled. "You think she'll get far? She won't get five metres before some dead fucker tears her throat out or Ethan grabs her after he's dealt with your beardy friend. You wanna see what old beardy is capable of?" Brandon leaned forward and showed Becca two harsh bruises on the sides of his neck. "Fucker choked me near to death. We want revenge for our friend, we get it, and this is how we're repaid. You all try to kill the rest of us, so we gotta take you out before you finish the job."

"It's funny." Becca said, taking a light step back. "The way I see it, your friend tried to murder two of our people, so one of us killed him to save them. Then _you _made the situation worse for yourselves."

Brandon smirked. The light that fell on his face created several shadows that accentuated his grin. "Think of it how you want, but we both know who's coming out on top. A little slut like you against a guy like me? All you've got is a knife, and I've got a rifle and a pistol."

Becca felt her eyes widen and her grim expression dropped slightly, putting Brandon in a more comfortable position than she would have liked him to be. "You know exactly what I mean, don't you?" Brandon growled, "I can see it on your face. This sort of thing's happened already. Ivan probably guessed that too. One man or one dead fucker tries to kill you and every time someone else saves your ass."

"You're wrong." Becca stuttered.

"You bet your round little ass I'm not," Brandon said, and then grunted. "Goddamn, that reminds me how long it's been..." he looked back at Becca, "You know where the spanish girl is? Once I'm done here I'd kinda like to take a ride on that shit."

"You're disgusting." Becca growled. "I can't say it'll be fun to kill you but I'll be glad that at least one member of your scumbag group will be dead."

Brandon burst out into forced laughter. "Are you kidding? _Me, _killed by a jumped-up little whore like _you_? Don't make me laugh. Now, come on, are we gonna do this or what?"

Becca jolted as he lifted his rifle. He pulled the trigger and narrowly missed as she dived to her left, landing on her shoulder behind a desk, dropping her knife in the process.

"Make this easy for me, bitch!" Brandon growled as he reloaded. Becca scrabbled on her hands and knees over the carpet and hid behind another desk that was further back. She looked up to work out if Brandon had moved, but he was still reloading.

Something hit him square in the side of the face, drawing blood. Brandon's head snapped to the left and he hunched over in pain, groaning, before regaining his posture. Crimson fluid was spattered across his face, sourced from a wide cut across his forehead. Blood was leaking down his face, into one of his deep-set eyes, causing him to squint. He used his sleeve to wipe the blood out of his eye and then continued to pursue Becca.

As she hid behind a desk, Becca saw a hole-puncher on the other side of the room, one corner covered in blood. Annie must have thrown it to distract Brandon as he reloaded. She looked back to where Annie had been, but the seven-year-old was no longer in the same place, which was worrying because it meant that Becca couldn't keep track of her.

Brandon stormed up the centre of the room before something else hit him in the back of the head, causing him to stumble forwards. Becca looked down the room and saw Annie standing near the staircase, where Brandon had surfaced minutes ago. The bandit turned and fired, barely missing the young girl and prompting her to flee behind a desk.

Brandon's attention was directed at Annie now. Becca had to somehow reclaim her knife from the place she'd dropped it, but Brandon was too close for her to do so. The bandit proceeded to stalk Annie, but the girl was managing to flit past the desks and find new hiding spots with ease, occasionally throwing something at his head while his back was turned.

Becca was in reach of her knife when Brandon turned and spotted her. He turned his rifle around and smacked her in the face with the stock, knocking her down and sending a searing pain through her skull. She saw the barrel line itself up with her face, but Brandon jolted forward as something hit him in the back of the head, shunting him forwards. His shot fired harmlessly into the seat of a chair, but Becca's ears started ringing, causing her to crush her eyes shut as the sound met her brain.

Brandon knew she wouldn't get up any time soon so he turned to pursue Annie. Becca's face stung where she'd been hit – right on the forehead, just above her eye. She lay on the ground, her body feeling as if it was made out of lead. She groaned in pain, barely able to move her head. In the corner of her eye she saw Annie desperately trying to outrun Brandon, who had thrown away his rifle to chase her with his bare hands. Annie knocked over chairs and desks in an attempt to slow Brandon down, bursting through a door and disappearing into an adjoining room as the bandit gave chase.

The knife was still just out of reach and Becca felt her brain throbbing as she thought of what to do.

"_I have to do... something."_ She thought.

She struggled to lift her head, feeling a terrible bout of head rush as she did so. Her head hit the ground again as she moaned in pain, unable to rise. A muffled scream came from nearby, and something snapped deep in Becca's stomach. She didn't _have_ to do something – she was _going_ to do something.

Before she knew it, she was uneasily climbing to her feet, gritting her teeth as she pushed through the pain barrier. She picked up her blade and clenched her one-and-a-half fists. Then she realised Brandon had thrown his rifle away to pursue Annie. That would be his downfall.

Becca lifted the weapon and felt her fingers slide into the right places as if it were second nature to her. This was the first time she'd held a rifle since Marshall's and memories of that night kept flooding back to her; how she'd shot the man through the stomach and stamped on his head until no face remained.

She lifted the rifle and slowly walked towards the door Annie and Brandon had disappeared through. She kicked the door open and lifted the gun, waiting for Brandon to spring out on the other side.

Her stomach sank. At the end of the room, Brandon had Annie pinned down and he had one foot on either side of her chest as he gripped her neck with one arm. The seven-year-old's hands scratched at his as her eyes bulged and tears streamed down her face. Daniel's hat lay a few metres away, presumably after falling off in the struggle.

Becca growled. The entire situation reminded her of Marshall. How he'd pinned her down and tried to strangle her. How Shel had come to her aid only to be shot dead. A searing rage filled her stomach and bubbled up to her head – the same rage that had caused her foot to destroy Marshall's head those few weeks ago.

She felt herself fall into a weird state of nausea as she flitted in between past and present. For a few seconds she saw Brandon tackling Annie, then she saw Marshall sitting over herself. For a second she thought she saw Shel being taken down again and that was the final straw.

Becca put the rifle down and lifted her knife. She ran to the aid of the trapped girl, whose identity switched between Shel's, Annie's and her own. Brandon didn't notice her.

She lifted her three-fingered right hand and grabbed his hair, shocking him as she pulled his head back. If that hadn't made her presence known, then her words did.

"Get your fucking hands off my sister."

She wrenched Brandon's head back, his hands trying to tear her away, and closed her eyes. She quickly lifted her blade and pressed it into his neck, pulling across and feeling the flesh of his throat resist as a red spray covered her hands and his chest.

Becca drew a long, wavering breath and let go. This time she wouldn't give in to the rage more than she needed to. Brandon could turn for all she cared.

The bandit fell to his side and gargled as blood spewed from his slit throat and his mouth. His eyes were wide as he scratched at his neck, trying to breathe. His face turned purple as he choked and his body started to fail.

Becca sighed, and then looked at Annie. The little girl got to her feet, still whimpering as she wiped her face on her sleeve. Becca reached for Daniel's hat and planted it on Annie's head, turning it around so it was backwards, the way Daniel had left it before he'd died.

She smiled at Annie weakly, and then felt the younger girl's arms wrapped around her own. It took a second but Becca returned the embrace as Annie cried, burying her face into the crook of Becca's neck. Becca joined in with the weeping and closed her eyes as she stroked the back of Annie's head. "It's okay," she said, "I've got you."

Annie stopped crying for a second and said, "You called me your sister."

"I did?" Becca hadn't realised. Deep down she'd been pretending to 'save' Shel from Marshall, replaying the events in a way that would have turned out better for everyone. From Annie's point of view, it was probably an odd thing to say. She didn't regret it, though. They were friends and judging by this situation, they may as well have been sisters.

They held the embrace for what seemed like hours, though it couldn't have been more than a few minutes. Becca supported Annie as she wept, Annie supported Becca as she worked out what had gone on in her mind and tried to accept that she'd killed a man for the second time.

Soon enough, the hug was done. Becca and Annie released each other and the former climbed to her feet, offering the latter her hand. As their palms met, they walked towards the staircase, aiming to help Wyatt and Vince.

It was odd. When Becca had first escaped, Shel had been her defender and her protector, the one who told her right from wrong. Her older sister who'd taught her nearly everything she knew of this world, and now she had to pass that knowledge on to Annie.

Becca had been the younger sister at the start of all this, and now she was the elder.

She found it funny how the world worked.

* * *

**Day 875 – Afternoon**

**Vince**

Vince was focused on Ivan, seeing Becca side up next to Wyatt to discuss something. He was no further than two cars from Ivan, but he'd ran out of bullets. He needed to find a way to make Ivan run out too.

He heard Becca cry "Shit!" and turned to see what was going on. Ivan didn't seize the moment to rush forward and attack Vince, so he assumed the bandit was distracted too. He saw Becca and Annie running for their lives as the attacker named Brandon chased after them, while Wyatt was struggling with Ethan. Vince felt bad for thinking it, but that meant that he wouldn't have to worry about the other two bandits coming at him and he could focus on Ivan. The final bandit, Donald, was busy shooting walkers as he stood in the truck bed about fifty metres away.

Vince couldn't get to Ivan without the bandit shooting him, so he had to try something else. He lifted the rock he'd been using to fight walkers and crept back over to the car he and the others had hid behind at the beginning of the encounter. Looking down, he saw the pole Wyatt had once used as a torch, and saw Wyatt himself in a spot of trouble with Ethan. He'd have to focus on Ivan and prevent the bandit leader from shooting at Wyatt.

He put Wyatt's pole to one side as he lifted the rock he'd previously used to disable walkers. Looking for any sight of Ivan, he saw the top of the bandit's head and threw the rock at him. He heard a grunt of pain and used the moment in which Ivan was stunned to run across the street, smash a window and dive into a c_afé_. Ivan growled and followed him, just as he'd planned. Vince ducked behind a counter and waited.

Ivan kicked the door down and gritted his teeth as he looked around. Vince held off until Ivan walked past his hiding place and tackled him harshly, slamming the man into a coffee machine. Ivan dropped his weapon, which fired and stunned the two men, though neither were harmed. Ivan yelled in rage and slashed back at Vince with his hands, slicing some of the skin on his face and knocking him back. Vince returned the favour, grabbing the back of Ivan's head and slamming it down onto the counter. As his face was pressed against the cold surface Ivan kicked Vince in the side of the knee and pushed him away so that he could get up. Vince stumbled backwards and the two faced each other at opposite sides of the café.

Ivan snorted as he wiped his face with his sleeve, his eyes reduced to tiny pinpricks within his head as he stared Vince down. Vince felt worry on his face and was met with the sight of blood as he touched his cheek. In the struggle he'd forgotten that Ethan and Brandon had gone after his friends and he glared at Ivan.

"There he is." Ivan grinned, "Finally came out to play, then?"

"The fuck are you talking about?" Vince asked bluntly, his eyes flitting from his enemy to the rifle on the ground. He could hear walkers behind the store.

"I know that look," Ivan said, studying the glare on Vince's face. "You killed someone, didn't you?"

"We've all killed people by now." Vince growled.

"I mean before. I'm a smart man, I can see it on your face. It's like looking in the mirror."

Vince was taken back by the statement. How could _anyone _recognise that he had murdered a man before the apocalypse?

"We're like-minded, you and I. We're both smart men, we've both killed. So let me ask, why are you pissing about with the likes of half-hand, Steve Urkel and the fucker that I killed? How does that benefit you in any way?" Ivan growled.

"Because they're my friends." Vince replied sternly.

"Can't be friends if you've got nothing in common. That girl who got bit; she's just baggage someone else palmed off on you. You feel like you owe beard guy something, and the other kid's just with him. Why not shoot them all and be a free man? Just have fun in this shit world, kill whoever you want with – or usually without - reason, just like before!"

"I killed for my little brother." Vince growled. "I protected him."

"I captured you folks and killed one of you for _my best friend_." Ivan retorted. "We're _no different."_

Deep down, Vince could tell that in some twisted way, Ivan was right. Killing was killing no matter the reason, and Ivan could twist it so that his kill was defensive or born out of vengeance, precisely the reasons Vince had killed for his brother.

"You're wrong." He stuttered.

"Bullshit." Ivan chuckled.

Vince could still hear walkers behind him; the café probably stretched all the way from the street they were on to the street behind, which was probably infested with walkers.

Their eyes fell on the rifle that lay on the ground next to Wyatt's pole.

Vince heard the walkers banging on the windows past the door behind him. His eyes met Ivan's, and in an instant they dived for the rifle. Ivan grabbed it by the stock as Vince gripped the barrel and threw it to the side. Ivan's shot missed and slammed into the wall. The two men tumbled around as they wrestled over the weapon. Vince disarmed Ivan and the rifle fell to the ground again, only to be shoved through the back door by the bandit.

All of a sudden the noise of walkers became louder and in the corner of his eye Vince saw the bodies reaching through broken windows. Ivan grappled the side of his head and shoved him towards the walkers so that his face was almost within reach of the grasping dead hands.

Vince yelled as he pushed back, placing a foot behind himself so that he had more stability. He quickly jolted to one side and Ivan slipped forwards, his sleeve captured by a walker. Vince noticed a glass coffee jug and grabbed it as Ivan freed his wrist and charged towards him. Vince smashed the glass over the bandit's face, breaking his nose with the impact. Ivan reeled back in pain and screamed, only to grab a shard of glass and charge once more. The sheer force knocked Vince onto his back as Ivan pinned him down with one arm and slammed the shard through his hand.

As Vince cried out in pain, his hand nailed to the ground, Ivan spat to one side and held the chest of Vince's jacket tightly. The bandit's right eye was closed shut, his face spattered with blood and littered with glass shards. His nose was bent to one side and his teeth were gritted as he seethed with rage.

"I didn't have to kill you to make you doubt what you are, but you keep looking at this face," he fumed, "I want to make sure it's the last thing you see!"

With that, he pulled the glass shard out of Vince's palm, leaned back and lifted it above his victim's head. Vince reacted on instinct, lifting his knee and foot beneath Ivan's chest. Both of them paused in an awkward moment of confusion and then Vince thrust the sole of his foot forwards with all his might, throwing Ivan backwards, towards the reaching hands of the walkers outside. A walker grabbed the bandit around his neck and another pulled his right arm back, sinking its teeth into him.

Ivan refused to scream, he just held a stare with Vince as a walker tore the skin from his neck and he was sprayed with blood. He looked at Vince, smirked, and gurgled, "Killer. Just like me."

Ivan leaned back and was accepted by the herd. Vince slowly got to his feet and watched as Ivan's stomach was torn open, exposing his ribcage and organs. Vince's breath wavered as he looked at his hand. It was dripping with blood and a pool was forming on the floor. He took one last look as Ivan's corpse joined the rest and walked through the door to get back onto the street. His eyes crushed in pain, he tore some fabric off of an apron and wrapped it around his injured hand.

He picked up Ivan's rifle with his good hand, stuffing his injured one into one of the pockets on his overcoat. Vince climbed out of the smashed window he'd originally used to get into the café and saw Wyatt sitting on the ground, leaning against a car with his head in his hands. Vince slowly dragged his feet over to his friend and collapsed beside him, resting his hand on his knee. For a second they sat in silence, inhaling and exhaling with exhaustion. Vince sat on the icy ground, looked at the sky and asked, "What happened to your guy?"

"Trapped under rubble." Wyatt replied.

"Not dead?"

"Not dead. There was a walker, though, that'll probably get him. What did you do?"

Vince took a deep breath. "Smashed a glass jug into his face, kicked him into some walkers. Dead. Oh, and he stabbed me in he hand with some glass." He raised his arm and showed Wyatt the blood stained material covering his hand.

"No sign of Becca or Annie." Wyatt said. "I told 'em to run. That guy either got them or they're gone forever. I don't really wanna look, seeing something bad might just make me want to stop living." Wyatt groaned, his head hitting the metal of the car as he leaned back.

"Come on," Vince said, pulling him to his feet. "Which way did they go?"

Wyatt pointed in the direction of the road ahead of them and the two began to walk slowly down the street. As Vince started to feel a sinking feeling in his stomach based around the survival of the two children, the door to an office building opened and Becca and Annie stepped out, hand in hand. The former looked disappointed in herself while the latter looked sad. Judging by their red faces they'd both been crying.

Wyatt crouched and Annie ran down the road and wrapped her arms around him, while Vince and Becca exchanged a quick glance. Just by looking at her bruised, guilty face, he could tell that she'd killed the bandit chasing her, though it appeared she'd been hit in the face judging by the large split just above her right eye.

"You okay?" He asked.

"I... uh, I don't know how to answer that." Becca replied. She leaned to one side and looked past Vince, a confused look on her face. "You know there's still one of them left, right?"

* * *

The survivors made their way past the deserted vehicles until they were almost at the truck. Donald had been watching them for a while now, having cleared the immediate area around the truck of walkers. As Vince held Ivan's rifle up, supporting it with the wrist of his injured hand, Donald sighed and slowly sank to his knees, putting his hands behind his head.

"So," Vince said, pressing the barrel of the weapon to Donald's forehead, "You're probably thinking that coming after us was a bad idea, right?"

"I didn't even wanna!" Donald groaned, looking up at the group. "I thought it was a waste of time!"

"Bullshit." Becca growled.

"I wanted to get revenge for when you guys shot David in the mall but we got that and I thought that was enough!" Donald pleaded.

"Yeah, I bet Russell would believe that information, considering you shot him." Vince argued.

"I panicked, man. If I did nothin' Ivan would'a punished me! I shot him in places that wouldn't kill him! I gave him a chance!" Donald cried. His forehead was sweating. "I told the guys not to go after him because he was probably dead, but I really just didn't see the point in killing him – same as I didn't see the point in comin' after you folks."

"I'm finding it hard to believe you." Vince pushed the barrel of the rifle further into Donald's forehead. He felt his finger rest on the trigger until he remembered what Ivan had said. This wasn't him, this wasn't what he would do. This is what a killer would do, and he didn't want that to be his defining trait.

So he lowered his gun.

"What are you doing?" Becca asked.

"The right thing." Wyatt replied. "He's gonna walk away."

Becca pointed at Donald. "_He's_ not walking away. What about Miles? Or Daniel?"

"Ivan shot Miles, Ivan stabbed Daniel." Vince said, "Now Ivan's dead." He saw Donald jolt as the words were uttered.

"Well, what about Russell?" Becca growled, "You can't defend him for that."

Vince sighed. "As much as I hate him, as much as I _hate_ this asshole, I'm not going to stoop to their level. We only do that when we're forced, like we did with the other three. This man isn't a threat to us any more, so we don't kill him, even if he did what he did. We're better than that." Vince waved the rifle at Donald. "Get up. Get the fuck up."

Donald was surprised. Slowly he climbed to his feet, but didn't reach for his gun. "What are you going to do?"

"You can run away now and never bother us again," Vince said, "Or I can shoot you in the knees and attract the herd that's not far away, your choice."

Donald backed off. "I'll go, I'm going, I'm gone, okay? Just, tell me what you want. You can have the truck if you want, just leave me, please!"

Vince gestured with the rifle to the street that led to the Outpost and the herd. "We're taking all our stuff. I want you to walk down there with nothing. No guns, no food, no medicine. You'll walk away, and you won't bother us again. Then it's up to you to redeem yourself, or die of your own accord or whatever. We don't care."

Donald hesitated for a second or two before Vince jabbed him in the chest with the barrel of the weapon. "Go!"

Donald sighed, turned, and started walking. He wrapped his arms around his body to shield himself from the cold as he stepped through the ice and snow, his head hunched as if he were expecting to be shot at any moment.

Eventually the final bandit disappeared into the mist and was gone.

"I hope I don't live to regret that." Vince sighed. "Hopefully being the better person doesn't get you killed in this shitty world."

"You did the right thing," Wyatt said.

"I guess." Becca grunted and then looked at the truck. "We've got this now, at least."

"Been a few weeks since I've driven us anywhere." Wyatt said, opening the door on the driver's side. "Window's cracked to shit, but it's not too bad if no one else is on the road."

"We've got all our stuff back," Vince said, surveying his complete mess of a group.

Becca climbed into the bed of the truck, lifting Donald's semi-automatic rifle. Wyatt helped Annie into the centre seat of the cab, and then reached into his pocket, unfurling a piece of paper. "Could head back to the mall, but I've got this too."

He handed the paper to Vince, who saw a list of names and locations. "Where'd you find this?"

"At the Outpost." Wyatt said, climbing back into the driver's seat.

"It's a list of people who passed through, and where they were going." Vince said, surprised.

"Holy shit, we might find another settlement!" Becca exclaimed. "We've gotta look. There's got to be something out there."

Vince climbed into the passenger seat of the truck, looked from Wyatt, to Annie, to Becca in the truck bed and asked one question:

"So, where first?"

**END OF EPISODE FIVE**

* * *

**AN: Thanks for reading "Into The Fray", especially if you've been following it since its inception. At its peak, Into The Fray was #7 on this site in terms of reviews, and that's amazing. ****If you liked this story then feel free to follow me in the event that I start up a sequel. **

**Also feel free to visit twdgff .com, a wiki for a few TWDG-based fanfics. It has pages for every ITF character, character statuses and I even made mock-ups of how the characters would look, which I used when describing them in this fic. I'll probably post trivia there too at some point. **

**Once again, thanks for reading. I hope you enjoyed these past two months, because I did.**

**Keep in mind that there will be an Epilogue tomorrow.**

_INTO THE FRAY: JUNE 14 2014 - AUGUST 26 2014_


	51. Epilogue

**Day 917 – Nightfall**

**Tyler**

It had not been a nice winter, but Tyler and the others were finally out of it. As he trod through what little snow remained, his mind flashed back to the events of the hardware store, as it often did. He recalled how his hands were sore from firing, how he'd seen Tavia's throat being torn out, how he'd saved Lowell from the same fate.

In all honesty, he wasn't entirely sure how they'd made it out. Once the lurkers had hit the roof the guards snapped back to reality and made a break for it, but that only ended in the death of Tisha. The walkers had made quick work of her.

He and Lowell had somehow managed to make their way down to find Stan, who said they could take the truck, but Tyler had already seen it driving off without them. Who stole it, he would never know. Stan had offered another route through the sewers, which Tyler thought was ridiculous and believed that sort of thing only happened in the movies, but to his surprise it had worked.

And now he, Lowell and Stan had been hiding for near sixty days. They'd hidden in houses and sheds, but never for long. They kept running low on supplies and had to go too far to find more. So here they were, forced to march for miles, come back on themselves and then go the same way again in the cold.

"This looks like as good a place as any." Lowell said, gesturing to a fallen tree, "To eat, at least."

Tyler felt his features twist into an expression of disdain, but sat on the log anyway. Stan slowly caught up, a sack thrown over his shoulders, and took a seat. His shaky, middle-aged hands lifted a single, solitary can of food and a can opener. Handing both items to Tyler, he scratched his greying beard and looked at the food solemnly.

Tyler found it hard to open the can due to his lack of strength. They were running out of food; this was no way to live. Now, Carver's place, that was how people did the apocalypse the right way; lots of food, lots of defense, lots of people. Not three people, no defense and a few cans of food to keep them going in the cold.

Once the can was open, Tyler carefully poured the cold beans into his allies' hands, making sure they all had equal amounts. He knew what he was doing, he'd done it too many times since they'd left.

Tyler felt sick due to the fact he hadn't eaten all day, but he had to manage something. The three men looked at each other and then threw the food to the back of their throats, relishing the nutrition.

"Canned food – it never goes off." Stan said. He always said that. Every day.

"Yup." Lowell agreed.

Tyler sighed as the food settled in his stomach. This was no way to live.

"Where're we gonna sleep tonight?" Stan asked.

"No idea." Tyler grunted. "If we don't find anywhere, we'll have to skip sleeping again."

"I'd take a room full'a walkers before skipping sleeping again." Lowell replied.

"You know what I miss?" Tyler groaned. "KFC."

"Trash food." Stan muttered.

"Tasted good, though." He looked at Stan. "You kinda look like Colonel Sanders, y'know."

"Colonel Sanders were he in the apocalypse." Lowell added.

Stan exhaled loudly. "I don't know who that is."

"Never seen him? Glasses, beard? Can't miss him in all the KFC ads." Lowell explained.

"Trash food." Stan repeated. "Never ate it."

"We don't eat anything no more." Tyler sighed, getting to his feet. "Come on, we've had our rest, gotta go again."

The other two groaned, but knew the stakes. Staying in one place too long would only put them in danger. They got to their feet, gathered their things and walked away.

**Day 918 - Midnight**

**Tyler**

The trio had been lucky enough to stumble upon a disused RV. They wouldn't go without sleep tonight. After covering all of the windows and blocking the doors, Tyler grabbed a cushion from the sofa and put it on the floor to use as a pillow. It was by no means comfortable, but he had learned to live with it. It was better than a lot of the other things he'd slept on after leaving the camp.

He rested his hand in front of his face. No matter how tired he was, he couldn't fall asleep. His mind kept flashing back to the walkers on the roof. Sometimes he'd see walkers in the corner of his eye, only to find something hanging off of a door or anything else completely unremarkable.

Tyler wondered what had happened to the other guards such as Bonnie, Wyatt and Russell. They hadn't been on the roof and he knew they'd all come in as one group with Vince, Shel and the other kid. Maybe they'd grouped up and run off. Maybe they'd been eaten. Maybe they'd stolen the truck. He'd never know.

He heard Lowell snoring nearby. That wasn't going to help him sleep. For a few seconds he tried to drift off, and then heard screaming from outside. Walkers didn't scream.

Lowell shot up, instantly awake. Tyler tore the curtains open and peeked outside. He saw a woman running across the fields, bare-foot and half naked as another woman and a man sprinted after her, one of them wielding a rifle. They heard several shots before the woman grunted in pain. Tyler looked to Lowell, who shrugged, and then looked back outside.

They didn't try to help.

"You're coming with us!" The male attacker shouted at his victim. "We need you!"

"No! Don't make me go back there, I'm begging you!" The woman cried.

"You need to shut up and let them work on you." The female attacker hissed. "It's for the greater good. We're making you _better._"

Lowell looked at Tyler. "The fuck are they talking about?"

"We're taking you back." The man said. "It's safe there. You have food, water, shelter there. You have to let them do what they do and you'll be okay. It's called Sanctum for a reason."

"Sanctum?!" Lowell hissed, "A settlement?"

"Looking at those three, it doesn't seem like a nice place." Tyler replied.

"That woman could just be crazy." Lowell replied. "You think it's worth a look?"

"Nothing to lose." Tyler replied. "Let's stalk 'em. Scope the place from a distance."

Lowell nodded and went to wake Stan. Perhaps this was a beacon of hope in a world of darkness. At any rate, a place called 'Sanctum' sounded safe.

"Come on, Stan," Lowell said, "We're going."

"Going?" Stan asked, "Going where?"

Tyler stood up, opened the door of the RV and looked at the other two. "To find sanctuary."


End file.
